


Set Our Hearts Aflame

by Bittersweet_in_Boston



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Actors, Almost nothing to do with canon at all, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Children’s theater, Custom furniture, Dragons, F/F, F/M, James Barnes can be an asshole (surprise), M/M, New York City, Not Canon Compliant, Now I really want some dragon earrings, Old New England families and their historical quirks, Possibly some light hints about very secret magic stuff, Production design, Slow Burn, Some pretty rad outfits, THE THEATAH, The Dragon Princess (a totally real fairy tale that I made up)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2020-06-26 04:59:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 49,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19761088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bittersweet_in_Boston/pseuds/Bittersweet_in_Boston
Summary: Ari Osgood is a young theater production designer with dreams of breaking into Hollywood who comes from an old New England family with a very well-kept secret. She meets up-and-coming actor/director James Barnes during a production of the well-known fairy tale The Dragon Princess for the prestigious New York Children’s Theater Festival at Lincoln Center, and their relationship is...contentious. Challenging. Heated. (Sparks literally fly.)





	1. Falling Through This Night Alone

The first time I met James Barnes, he was seducing an entire room, and I could only sit back and marvel. Later when we were getting drunk at Antler and I reminded him of this, he tipped his head back and laughed and laughed, mouth open and eyes crinkled. And then even later...

OK, hold on. I guess I’d better take a step back and tell the story properly. Everyone in my family besides me is incredibly adept at storytelling and they have no patience with me because they say I start things in the middle and skip around, rather than giving things a proper beginning, middle, and end. But it’s been my experience that stories aren’t always as neat as all that - that sometimes you start things in the middle and skip around because that’s the way your mind remembers them, that’s what memory offers up first. When I think of James Barnes, that image of him seducing the room is always the first to come up because that was the beginning of everything with him...for me.

But OK, anyway, the beginning. My name is Ari Osgood, and I come from an old and respected New England family with a secret we’ve kept for 350 years. I grew up in Ipswich, Massachusetts on the North Shore outside Boston. My mother and father are pillars of local society, my mother running the preeminent OB/GYN practice in nearby Danvers and my father a well-known biomedical researcher at Harvard Med School and Beth Israel Hospital in town.

Medicine and healing have been my family’s advocation (and avocation) for generations; my two older brothers had followed my parents into the profession and were doctors in Worcester and Concord. Everyone praised my family for having the gift of healing and everyone expected that I, too, would join the family business.

And yet I was not interested in medicine. From the time I was small, all I wanted to do was draw and build things. I filled sketchbook after sketchbook with designs for houses, furniture, and fantastic trees and plants that existed nowhere in nature. At age 6, I designed a chair for one of my stuffed animals and then demanded wood, a saw, and a hammer from my bemused parents and built it that same day.

At age 8, my mother took me to my first play at Boston Children’s Theater in Beverly, and that was it. I was hooked. I enthusiastically joined local and school theater groups, but instead of angling for lead roles, I followed the tech crew around and volunteered to help build every set. In high school I quickly became the set designer (and chief builder) for every major production, and my designs were even used in a run of _Stuart Little_ at the acclaimed Wheelock Family Theater in Boston when I was 17. People said there was “just something” about my designs that brought the play that much more to life, and indeed, I could feel the inspiration singing in my veins as I sketched and constructed.

My parents insisted I take a full load of high school science and math courses so I could go to college as a pre-med. But in December of my senior year, I presented them with a letter from Carnegie-Mellon offering me a full scholarship in their theater tech and design program, and they sighed and gave in. I finished my BFA and MFA in five years and went out to make my way in the world of theater and movies.

My parents were dubious that I could make a living in such an unstable and capricious world, but they had to be impressed as I racked up an assistant design credit at the Kennedy Center and off-Broadway, and principal design credits in regional theaters across the country. Somehow my designs attracted producers and directors alike, and made them think new thoughts about how they could make productions better.

I did well enough to set up shop in New York and, at 27 when my grandmother died, I used her inheritance for a down payment on a small but comfortable loft on Norfolk Street on the Lower East Side. This was my homebase for both my theater work and the custom furniture business I did on the side, though I usually built and stored that furniture in a small industrial warehouse in Queens.

The first time I met James Barnes, we were both in a meeting with a group of theater investors, trying to get funding for that off-Broadway play I mentioned earlier. It was a risky proposition as the playwright was up-and-coming and most of us on the creative team were younger and less experienced. Barnes, the proposed star, was an actor with solid TV credits and several supporting roles in critically acclaimed movies, but he was hardly a household name. But the director and principal set designer were veterans, with good connections, and we very much hoped they could sway the investors to back our endeavor.

However, the meeting got off to a rocky start, and even the senior team members were having trouble getting across the vision of the production and (more importantly) the business case for investment. One of the prospective investors, a middle-aged guy from one of the film studios with what seemed like a permanent frown etched on his face, grilled the director about costs and time to recoup for 20 minutes. We appeared headed for failure; I sat in a corner of the room with my portfolio case and sighed to myself, already gearing up to move on.

And then Barnes piped up from the middle of the table. He said, quietly but clearly, “Hey guys” and suddenly the air in the room shifted. It got brighter and you could almost feel the cool breeze. In response, my stomach clenched and I felt a tingling in the middle of my forehead, which I quickly dispelled by saying a few quiet words to myself. He put the play in a whole new light, telling the old rich white guys how it would appeal to a wide swath of the theater-going population and painting mental pictures of rave reviews and even an Obie or three. Within two minutes he had the entire room enthralled, and after 15 minutes the investors sat in the palm of his hand. They could hardly wait to sign up to finance the play.

As the meeting adjourned and the investors filed out, talking excitedly with the director about the production, Barnes stood up and stretched. As he ran his hands through his short dark hair, he turned and caught my eye. I was still sitting off by myself, not necessarily inspired but certainly impressed. And amused. I raised my eyebrows at him, trying to ignore the buzzing between my eyebrows that his stare invoked. His bright blue eyes sparkled and his wide mouth pulled up at the corners into a dazzling smile. And then that asshole winked at me, turned, and walked out of the room.

The production went ahead, and it was a big success, selling out most of its limited three-month run. Barnes and the rest of the cast got rave reviews, and several reviewers even had good words to spare for the set design. As an assistant designer, I didn’t have much to do with the cast of that show and indeed, went out of my way to avoid Barnes whenever he was close by in the theater. It wasn’t hard; I have a knack for knowing where people are and being unobtrusive when needed. Once, however, he did manage to catch me by surprise backstage during a rehearsal.

“You’re Ari, right?” he said, flashing me a megawatt movie star smile. It was less a friendly grin and more _Hey, look what a handsome and smooth motherfucker I am_. I’d seen that look on the faces of so many actors who wanted something from me, and I was having none of it.

“Possibly,” I replied, putting on my Ice Queen Voice, which I had perfected especially for such bullshit. His face flashed annoyance for a split second and then reassembled into something more genuine.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I’m not trying to bullshit you, I’m just trying to meet you properly,” he said ruefully, tipping his mouth into a crooked grin and extending his hand toward me. I took a deep breath, shrouded my eyes and forehead, and shook his hand firmly.

“Yes, Ari. Nice to meet you.” Though I kept my tone neutral, as if it wasn’t yet clear whether it was nice to meet him or not. While part of me was dazzled by his charm and ridiculously handsome face, my conservative Osgood blood screamed DANGER in my head. Plus it was well known that he was dating his co-star, Natasha Romanov, another up and coming actor who’d just landed the lead in the new Gus Van Sant movie. Barnes just raised his eyebrows and chuckled.

“They’re not always right, you know.” And he looked pointedly into my eyes...and then at my forehead.

At that moment, the stage manager called for me and I hurried off. I acknowledged to myself that he had me shook. And for the rest of my time on that production, Barnes left me alone - it was almost as if he knew I was avoiding him, and was telling me he respected my wishes. I was relieved, if secretly a little disappointed.

The limited run ended and we went our separate ways, me to Arena Stage in DC to design a Shakespeare production and Barnes to Budapest and Morocco to play a supporting role in anepic sci-fi movie. I saw the movie in the theater when it came out; his part was small but he stood out among the cast. He always does. And it’s not just his physical beauty, although that in itself is quite stunning - more than that, there’s an energy that emanates from him that makes his performances special.

I didn’t meet Barnes again in person for a couple of years, but I quietly kept track of his progress in Hollywood through the trades and through my network, which intersected with his fairly heavily. He’d started in theater as a kid (hence the Off-Broadway play) and knew many of the same people I did. And, although I didn’t broadcast it far and wide, I was interested in getting into design for movies. After the Arena Stage Shakespeare gig I’d spent a month in Wellington apprenticing at WETA Workshop and had made a few contacts at ILM in California.

It was a big career goal for me to design for a big fantasy or superhero movie, although I didn’t want to give up on the theater world altogether. I figured I had the talent - and the organizational skills and the ability to keep calm while those around me were running around like headless chickens, which is not something you always find in either the theater or on a Hollywood movie set. Nothing had panned out yet, but I was quietly confident. And it would impress my parents, too - OK, maybe not *impress* them, because they still thought my profession was total bullshit, but they might get a little excited if I told them I was working with Robert Downey, Jr. or Cate Blanchett.

*****

And then one day last winter I got The Email. It was from acclaimed theater and film director Carol Danvers, inviting me to lead set and prop design for the signature production at the New York Children’s Theater Festival, which she was programming. This was the most prestigious of theater festivals aimed at young people, lavishly funded by the Stark Foundation, and many well-known actors and directors had been involved over the years. It took place every year in mid-June and it was a plum gig, and an honor to be asked to participate.

I hadn’t worked with Danvers, but had met her once or twice. Her email said I came “highly recommended” and named a couple of other creative teams I’d worked with. Their opening (and signature) production for that year would be a full adaptation of The Dragon Princess, the well-known fairy tale.

My heart beat faster as I read this. I’d loved this story since I was little, fully identifying with the princess and her strangeness and her close relationship with a dragon and her enchantment and her struggles and her triumphant renewal and rebirth. Although I’d been strong and resisted my family’s pressure to follow their path, and although I’d followed my heart into my dream career, there was still a part of me that felt enchanted. The beautiful princess had been turned into a crone by an evil sorcerer - I didn’t feel like a crone, but a vital part of me felt shrouded in grey, as if something (or someone?) was keeping me from revealing my True Self to the world. And often, especially in my darker moments, I wondered if that Someone was me.

And then Danvers’ email mentioned that she wouldn’t be directing individual plays during the festival, that the production of the Dragon Princess would be directed by and star...James Barnes. And my heart beat even faster. I couldn’t deny that I was strongly attracted to Barnes, to his charisma and creative energy, to his passion for acting and theater. But I also couldn’t deny that he scared me, that I worried his power to charm could also wound. And besides, he was still said to be dating Romanov.

(This is not to say that I had no love life, by the way. I’d dated regularly through college and my twenties and had some pretty intense relationships, but inevitably they fizzled out. My latest girlfriend, Gwen, had complained when she broke up with me that a good quarter of me seemed to be elsewhere at any given time, and it sounded uncomfortably similar to what my previous boyfriend had said to me when we ended things over FaceTime.)

I’ll be honest with you, I almost emailed Danvers back right away to regretfully decline due to my busy schedule, wish her luck with the festival, and then permanently delete the message. But then I took a deep breath, stood up, and walked away from my laptop. I went over to the big windows of my loft and looked out. A wintry mix was falling on New York and everything looked a mess. The lights of city were veiled in clouds and smog, but they kept shining through the gloom.

_What are you afraid of_ , I said sternly to myself. _This is a huge opportunity and could open more doors for you. Think of the prestige of this event! Think of the contacts. And you love this story; it’s like it was tailor-made for you. You’ve waited your whole life to create your very own dragon. Who knows when you’ll get this chance again? Barnes is just a person - just a normal, gorgeous, heart-stoppingly charming person - and you can deal with him_.

_And besides, liar_ , I added dryly, _you aren’t busy this spring - that job in La Jolla didn’t come through_. 

I waited til the next day to respond, and in the morning I almost backed out again after a night full of strange, disturbing dreams in which I wandered through dark, twisty hallways in search of something - was it good, was it bad? Whatever it was, it was just out of reach and not reaching it was killing me. Then suddenly the dream shifted and it was a grey fall morning and I was standing on a long-ago scaffold surrounded by a crowd of somberly dressed people looking up at me with angry eyes. Some were shouting, others were praying. Someone put a rope around my neck and the noose tightened...

I woke in a cold sweat, gasping for breath. The sky outside was leaden grey and the wintry mix continued to drop slush on the city streets. A police siren wailed in the distance. I suddenly felt silly and over-dramatic, and put my Logical Grown-up Hat back on. This opportunity was too important for me, James Barnes or no James Barnes. I opened my laptop and typed a brief but suitably enthusiastic acceptance to Danvers. Seeing her last name in the REPLY-TO field brought a brief image of my nightmare back into my head. I shook it away and stalked off to take a shower.


	2. I Find Myself Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ari takes the job designing the Dragon Princess, and finds that she and Barnes both have strong ideas about dragons.

After I sent the acceptance email back to Carol Danvers to design The Dragon Princess, she sent me an enthusiastic reply in a suitably flattering short amount of time, and promised contract paperwork to come. This arrived in a world record two weeks, and I smiled to myself, speculating that whoever was running the Stark Foundation had been hired by Pepper Potts and not by Tony Stark. Stark was a genius billionaire, but organizational skills were not his strong suit.

I’d met Stark once at a charity event at the Majestic. He was thoroughly charming but also thoroughly scattershot, shaking my hand and complimenting my work but wandering off after five minutes muttering about applying quantum mechanics to theater design. A hire of his would never have gotten their act together to take care of administrative details so quickly. As a fellow creative who gives birth to at least 40 new ideas a day, I sympathized with this mentality, but if I allowed myself to be that disorganized I wouldn’t have an apartment or food on the table, so I forced myself to focus on bureaucratic details like contracts and leases and down payments.

While I waited for the contract, I finished up a couple of end tables for some private furniture clients, and then started an armchair for another rich customer. I hadn’t yet started designing in earnest for the theater festival production (don’t count your chickens, etc.) but I was obsessively rereading the fairy tale and researching dragons (both Eastern and Western) online.

And this obsession showed up in my furniture - at the end of a day of carving the back of the armchair, I came out of my woodworking stupor and realized that I’d added a dragon’s head on the headrest, right above where the upholstery would be added. I knew immediately that I’d be making another custom chair for that senior Goldman partner - dragons were definitely not in his brief and besides, I wasn’t letting this dragon go. I had it upholstered in a rich dark green fabric and installed it in my own eclecticly furnished loft.

Once the paperwork had been signed (Lordy, but the Stark Foundation was generous with its creative team stipends, such a refreshing change!), I dove headlong into the project. I had six weeks before our first team meeting, and I was going to bring an entire set of designs to that meeting or die trying. Now I was researching the fairy tale’s origins (most recently French, but said to originate in Hungary or the Czech Republic), medieval dress and home decor in Central and Eastern Europe, and Prague Castle. My designs for the castle, the woods, the villages, and the sorcerer’s keep came together in a week.

But I kept coming back to the dragons. They were, I had decided, the key to the success of this production. They had to be perfect in order for the play to work its magic - they had to be magical and strange and fantastic, but also real and approachable. And not too scary, as this was a production for kids. I looked at pictures of dragons constantly, made trips to the New York Public Library, and came home with printouts to add to my giant concept board in my loft. It was like a real-life Pinterest board on steroids, only with dragons instead of wedding cakes or holiday craft projects.

For weeks I lived and breathed dragons. I drew them constantly, looking for the perfect dragon design for the play. Finally, the day before our first creative meeting, I had what I thought was the perfect dragon - obviously Central European, but with some hint of Chinese descent. The lizard puppets I designed were obviously the domestic version of these creatures. I went to bed happy and ready for the morning.

That night I dreamt of the princess’s dragon. Metallic green-gold with flashing red eyes, it flew around the castle courtyard where I stood, my long white dress fluttering in the wind. As it landed, I ran to meet it. It roared and launched a torrent of fire at me, and I could not remember the words to stop it. I stood tall as the flames crackled around me, waiting for the end. And yet the fire did not consume me. I felt an intense pressure in my forehead, and called out a long-forgotten spell in a mighty voice. A light flashed in front of my eyes and the flames vanished.

The dragon shut its mouth, circled itself once, and then stood still. I walked up to it, staring it in the eyes, and held its great, scaled face in my hands. Then I leaned forward and kissed it on the snout. The beast instantly transformed itself into James Barnes, his dark hair shoulder-length, wearing a full black Elizabethan costume: tunic, doublet, gloves, hose, thigh-high boots.

His eyes blazed as he took me in his arms and devoured my mouth with his. He ripped my dress from neck to crotch and his lips trailed down my neck to my breasts. I leant my head back and moaned and he laid me down in the grass, spread my legs, and slowly entered me. As he filled me, I felt the dragon flames rising from within me and suddenly the fire was consuming both of us...

...and then I woke up. It was 7 in the morning and a pale late winter light shone through the bedroom curtains. The intensity of my dream lingered and I was incredibly turned on. This would never do; I wasn’t about to start my first day on this job horny and unfulfilled. I reached down between my legs and found my slit soaking wet. I circled my clit with slow, careful strokes, but really had no need to be careful as I was already halfway there. As I lay there and brought myself off, Barnes’ face from my dream flashed into my mind - my gut muscles clenched hard and I climaxed with a gasp. Did I whisper “James” as I came? Possibly.

I lay in bed for another few minutes, savoring the warmth emanating from my core, and then I shook my head and pulled myself together. It was time to get up, get dressed, and get on with the job. James Barnes was just a work colleague - a volcanically hot work colleague, but a work colleague nonetheless. Our relationship would be professional, no matter how many dragon porn dreams I had, and my conservative Osgood genes reminded me that he was dangerous. And besides, he was dating Natasha Romanov. I sighed, dragged my ass out of bed, and stumbled into the shower.

  
*****

  
Our first creative meeting was in a small conference room at the Stark Foundation. The Foundation was headquartered on several floors at 1633 Broadway, separate from Stark Industries, so we were spared the agonies of meeting at the giant architectural monstrosity that looms threateningly over Grand Central. (Yes, I have Strong Opinions About Modern Architecture, don’t we all?)

In general the theater dresses down but I wanted to assert my dominance at this first meeting, so I went all in on my power outfit. Bottle green high-necked silk blouse, tight tailored black pants, green snakeskin patterned ankle boots, topped with a shearling-lined black leather jacket. The boots took me to almost six feet tall and I wanted that height today. (The little voice in my head reminded me that Barnes was exactly six feet tall and I wanted to look him in the eye.) Dangly dragon earrings with accompanying second-piercing diamond studs and a row of tiny emeralds up my left ear. The earrings were a bit obvious but I wanted to get my point across and they emphasized how dedicated I was to this project. I thought about putting my long dark brown hair into a bun but decided that was too severe and just tied back the front bits, leaving the rest to cascade down my back.

I strode into the building, clutching my briefcase and portfolio tube against the chill March wind and took the elevator to the 42nd floor. I took a deep breath. I was ready. I entered the conference room five minutes before the meeting, thinking that it would give me some time to settle (theater people are generally late).

But already in the room and conferring in low voices were our producer Sam Wilson, a tall, beautiful, dark-haired woman I didn’t know who looked like she could easily body-check me out the window, and...James Barnes. He looked as gorgeous as ever but, much to my discomfort, his previously short hair was now shoulder-length, exactly as it had been in my dream. His all-black outfit (turtleneck, skinny jeans, black ankle boots) was essentially the modern equivalent of the Elizabethan outfit he’d been wearing in my dream when he’d...

_Fuck_.

Barnes glanced up when I entered the room and looked me up and down. I’d left my badass leather coat in the reception closet but hoped I still looked formidable. His eyes flashed and he turned on his thousand-watt smile and said, “Osgood. Great to see you. Glad you’ve decided to join our team for this project.”

I smiled and said, “I’m so glad to be here. Looking forward to working with you” in my best Professional Business Lady voice, and held out my hand. He clasped it in both of his for maybe a little longer than your typical business handshake and my stomach tightened involuntarily. Damnit. He smirked a bit in smug recognition of the impact he had on people, which made me want to whack him upside the head with my portfolio case, and then he introduced me to the impressive woman I didn’t know.

“Osgood, this is the Director of Fine Arts at the Stark Foundation, Maria Hill. Maria Hill, our principle production designer, Ari Osgood.” Hill, dressed in a perfectly fitted navy Armani pants suit, a crisp white blouse, and killer black Ferragamo pumps, stepped forward and took my hand in a power grip that confirmed my initial suspicions about her physical combat abilities.

“Nice to meet you, Ari,” she said pleasantly. “I hope the contract and the administrative details have been acceptable so far.” _Definitely hired by Pepper Potts_ , I told myself, grinning inwardly.

“Yes, entirely acceptable,” I said, smiling. “Thanks to you and your team for making it easy.”

“That’s my job,” she said. “Making sure the talent is happy.” I glanced over her shoulder at Barnes, who raised his eyebrows at me with a challenging look on his face. I raised one back at him and then went to greet Sam Wilson with a big hug. He was a terrific guy with exceptional people skills, and often worked with Barnes on theater productions. We’d become friends a few years ago when I was doing assistant design on Barnes’ off-Broadway show.

I was talking animatedly with Sam and trying very hard not to let Barnes get in my head when the other meeting participants started entering the room and taking seats at the conference table. Last to arrive was Natasha Romanov, looking gorgeous in tight black jeans and a burgundy boatneck sweater, her striking red hair up in a French twist. She and Barnes kissed cheeks casually but then she went to sit at the other end of the table.

_Interesting_ , I thought, _I guess they’re keeping it professional for the meeting_.

Barnes then looked at me and patted the chair next to him.

“Come sit here, Osgood,” he said, smirking. “I want a good close look at those designs.” I glanced at Romanov but she was talking animatedly with Sam. Then I sat down next to Barnes and tried very hard to look like he had no effect on me.

The meeting went well. We talked about the schedule, the marketing, the production budget, the casting. Romanov would be playing the princess and Barnes would take the part of the dull-witted boy, but most other parts were yet to be cast. Sam and Barnes undertook to start the audition process immediately, as rehearsals would start in mid-April.

Then we turned to production design. I pulled out my portfolio case and smoothed the large design drawings out on the conference table. I took the group through my ideas for the designs, emphasizing my research and my strong need to combine elements from Asian and European myths. The group was suitably impressed and expressed its enthusiastic support. Then I pulled out my dragon drawings.

The room went temporarily silent as the drawings were passed around the table. Romanov looked at them and raised her eyebrows, then slid her eyes to me and said, “Ari, these are...impressive.” It was high praise from someone who was generally miserly with compliments. Then Barnes got them, looked for a few minutes, and said, “These are nice, Osgood, but they’re too pretty. We need a few more scars and armored plates. Like Smaug.”

The rest of the table spoke up in protest, allowing me a moment to put a lid on my anger. I took a deep breath and said dryly, “This is a fairy tale, Barnes. A fantasy. For children.”

“I know, I know, but we have to inject some reality into it, to ground it. All the classic fairy tales have darkness and elements of violence to them.”

“Yes, but these dragons are magical creatures who’ve lived for some time as salamanders. And there’s plenty of darkness in the story, no need to make it even scarier.”

The argument went on like this for ten minutes, until Sam stepped in and said, “OK, OK, you two, we get it. You both have strong feelings about dragons.” Amid the laughter, he proposed that we continue the meeting and move on to costume design. Barnes relented, but as he sat back in his chair, he leaned my way and said under his breath, “We’ll talk more about this over lunch.”

“I’ve got a lunch date, Barnes,” I lied just as quietly, trying to listen to the larger conversation and keep both my temper and my blushing under control. Damnit, it was infuriating that he could get under my skin like this. And he was not going to win this battle over the dragons - I’d fought many a director who thought he (and it was usually a he) knew design better than I did, and I usually won.

At the end of the meeting, I picked up my designs, carefully put them back in the portfolio case, stood up and made for the door to avoid Barnes. Thankfully he was waylaid by Sam and the costume designer, both wanting to talk about our follow-up meeting and the overall rehearsal schedule. I said goodbye to the room in general and walked out. That made it not an Irish goodbye, right, saying goodbye to everyone and no one?

I got my coat, turned in my badge to the receptionist and thanked him, and strode as professionally as I could toward the elevator. The elevator doors dinged and opened and I got in the car, already exhaling with the relief of escape. And then the elevator didn’t close for 30 seconds, even when I pushed the Close Doors button. My scalp started to tingle...and then...

“Osgood!”

Barnes barreled through the office doors and onto the elevator. Then the doors magically closed ( _Traitors_ , I thought pettily at them) and we were alone together, on the way down. He turned to me and smiled.

“So, Osgood, I know you have an important lunch date,” again with that smirk, as if he knew I was lying. Bastard. “But we definitely need to talk more about the dragons before construction starts. What about dinner tonight? Tomorrow night?”

He leaned over until he was about a foot from my face and gave me a challenging look, eyebrows raised. Thank goodness for high-heeled boots, because this way I could almost stare him straight in the face instead of having to look up to do it. He wanted to play it that way, huh? I was ready for this brand of asshole.

“The dragons are perfect, Barnes, so there’s nothing to talk about,” I snapped. “Construction starts Friday in Queens, and everything will be ready on schedule for rehearsals next month. Don’t worry, this production will be everything you wanted and more. And I’ve got dinner plans tonight and tomorrow.” I leaned in even more towards him and raised my eyebrows right back, as if daring him to question me.

We were about six inches apart and the air between us crackled with energy. He was going to try to intimidate me, either by yelling right in my face or trying to kiss me. I felt pressure in my forehead and brought my left pointer and thumb together, prepared to deal with whatever nonsense he was about to send my way. My eyes flashed, and his pupils flared...

...and then he did the unexpected. He leaned back, stood up straight, shook his head, and chuckled. He ran his fingers through his ridiculous long hair and looked at me almost bashfully.

“Truce?” he said hopefully, holding out his hand for me to shake. I hesitated, then took it. His grasp was warm and inviting, and he looked into my eyes and said, “I really do love your designs - although I do have some ideas about how to integrate them with the costumes and music even better. Can we get a drink sometime during construction? Maybe next week?”

“You’re welcome to come out to Queens next week while I’m overseeing the crew,” I responded acidly. We’ll be there for the next few weeks, every day, 9 to 5.”

He looked rueful and said, “I’m shooting a guest role on Law & Order for the next few weeks, ‘til April 10th.”

“Well,” I said, trying to keep the triumph out of my voice, “that’s too bad. I’ve got a consulting job in the evenings for the next month, starting next week. We’ll have to stay in touch through texts and FaceTime.”

The elevator doors dinged for the lobby and opened. I exited but he stayed in the elevator, chuckling and shaking his head. I turned to say goodbye and he smiled, gave me a mock-salute, and said, “Of course. Whatever you say, _mo bhanrion_.” Then the doors closed.

On the M train home, I looked up “ _mo bhanrion_ ” on my phone. Google helpfully told me it meant “my queen” in Gaelic.

“Shit,” I said to the empty subway car.


	3. When You Told Your Secret Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barnes and Ari start to work together, and find out more about each other. Featuring creepster guest stints on Law & Order, the intricacies of tree placement, first rehearsals, and a memorable diner lunch in which some ice is broken.

I thought I’d shaken off Barnes, at least until we started rehearsals at Lincoln Center in mid-April. But I should’ve known that someone who called me “my queen” in Gaelic wouldn’t be quite so easily deterred. Three days after our showdown in the elevator at the Stark Foundation, I got a text.

**Unknown Number**

_Hey Osgood, it’s James Barnes. Haven’t forgotten the dragons. And I want your opinion on how to set the forest scene with the sorcerer. Will call you on a break from L &O next week_

I was in my workshop in Queens, working on a set of end tables for the owner of a tech start-up, when my phone pinged. I pulled off my work gloves, saw the text, and rolled my eyes. I was tempted to delete it and move on, but I sighed and added Barnes to my contacts, avoiding the further temptation to call him “This Fucking Guy.” I thought for a minute and then responded.

**Galanis Design**

_OK but if I’m busy with the crew I won’t pick up and I hate voicemails_

A little cranky, but it set firm boundaries. Two minutes later my phone pinged again.

**Barnes**

_Truly unfortunate as I have a lovely singing voice and am known for my epic serenades about tree placement, your loss_

I snort-laughed and shook my head. This Fucking Guy.

But the following Tuesday afternoon the crew and I were taking a break from construction and I was having a snack when my phone rang. Of course it was Barnes. I almost let it ring through but then at the last minute picked it up.

“Ari Osgood,” I said, sighing to myself.

“Osgood!” Barnes shouted on the other end. There was a fair amount of background noise. “Hold on a sec, I’m going somewhere quieter.” The voices and city noises receded. “OK!” he yelled.

“Barnes, I can hear you, you don’t have to shout,” I said, trying to keep the impatience out of my voice.

“Oop, sorry about that,” he said in a considerably quieter voice. “Do you have a minute?”

“Yes, a minute, what’s up?” I answered. “Have some feedback on the dragons? Criticism of my trees? Thinking you want to move the play to outer space?”

“Nah, space is cliche, it’s done,” he said, laughter in his voice. “Let’s put the dragons aside for now, I really did want to ask you about the forest scene, where do you think the group should stand within the set? I really want to up the menace factor there.”

I was silent for a few moments. Then: “Really?” I said. “You really want my input on this?” It was fairly rare for a director to ask a set designer for their opinion about staging, so my incredulity was not just me being a bitch.

“Yeah, I really do,” he said immediately and warmly. “You have an excellent eye, and you know your set design better than anyone else, so why not? I really want your thoughts. Really.”

Oh what the hell, I thought, took a deep breath, and started talking. “Well, if you want to increase the sense of threat in that scene, you should think about having the sorcerer appear from behind the big gnarled tree at stage right...”

And then we were off. We started talking about the scene, and I got so absorbed that I forgot my snack. I rummaged around in my bag, found some paper and a pen, and started drawing a schematic as I talked, adding the actors and arrows to denote their movements. Barnes also got excited and started asking me questions about my ideas. Finally I said, “Hey, I drew something, want to see it? Let’s switch to FaceTime.”

“OK,” he said and I saw him appear on the phone screen. He was wearing wire-rimmed glasses and a giant mustache, and his hair was tucked up into a gooberish wig. I couldn’t help myself; I cackled out loud and said, “Nice ‘stache, dude.”

He laughed and said, “I know, very hot, right? I’m playing a psycho, two episodes.”

“I’ll be sure to watch and tell all my friends that my current boss is a psycho,” I said, grinning, and he laughed again. “Only on TV!” he said ruefully. “And I’m not your boss, we’re colleagues. If anything, Tony Stark is our boss.”

“Heaven forfend,” I said dryly. Then I held up my paper. “OK, here’s what I was thinking...”

We talked for another 10 minutes until he was called back to set and my crew got in my face to get back to construction. We said hurried goodbyes and then went back to our respective jobs. As I sat on the subway later that day, it occurred to me that Barnes had been a really good colleague, asking for my inputs, and for once we’d gotten along rather well. Before I could think about it too much I whipped out my phone and sent him a text.

**Galanis Design**

_Good talk today, thanks_

I attached a photo of my schematic drawing to the text. The text went through, but then I hit a dead spot (fucking MTA) for a few minutes. As I exited at Bowery, my phone pinged.

**Barnes**

_Thank you, so psyched to be working with you on this_

Accompanied by a selfie in his L&O psycho costume with an enthusiastic thumbs up. I snorted and texted back.

**Galanis Design**

_Maybe the dull witted boy needs a full nyc security guard mustache_

**Barnes**

_On it, til soon_

_x :)_

I hastily pocketed my phone and headed east toward Ludlow, trying very, very hard not to think about that “x” and what it meant, if anything.

****

After that, Barnes and I had several impromptu FaceTime chats about the production as we found time in and amongst our respective interim projects. For an actor and a budding director he had a good eye for design and gave me a few good ideas for improving the sets and props, which I immediately applied to construction with the crew. And he listened attentively to my ideas about direction and how to mix the actors and sets to optimal effect. I’m no director, and the only onstage role I ever had was as a background townsperson in my high school production of _Our Town_ , but I’ve paid attention to how things come together on all the projects I’ve been involved with - which, as it turns out, is a fairly valuable (and rare) commodity, at least as far as Barnes told me.

We never had the chance to meet in person to discuss things, TV shoots and set construction being the unpredictable bitches they are, but we were solving problems on The Dragon Princess before they could even pop up. Which, given how many unanticipated problems there would be once rehearsals started, was a huge blessing.

And in all our FaceTime chats, we never once discussed the dragons. It was as if we knew this was a bigger battle to be fought in person, and we were each reserving our fire for the appropriate moment. I knew he hadn’t forgotten, and I knew it would come up at some point. In my off-time, usually right before bed, I kept drawing dragons - backup dragons, I called them. I had my dragon-Barnes dream a few more times, each time waking up already half-fuck drunk and having to take care of myself before getting up and dealing with the day.

But I was so busy that I didn’t stop to think about what any of this meant, just kept compartmentalizing and moving on. I was happy that Barnes and I were getting along now, because it made my professional life easier. That conservative Osgood part of me still sat in the background, telling me how dangerous he was, but I told it to fuck off regularly.

However, truth be told, I started to look forward to our FaceTimes - we got on well, we could give as good as we got, we were...maybe becoming friends? And besides, we weren’t even physically co-located, so how dangerous could it be? I got a little nervous thinking about rehearsals and the in-theater production weeks, as we’d have to be in the same room, but there would always be other people around, so it would be fine. It would be fine. Fine. And yet all that rationalizing didn’t stop the erotic dreams and the sensation at the end of them of us both going up in flames.

*****

It was mid-April. Construction had finally wrapped up and I made arrangements for the sets and props to be delivered to Lincoln Center for the tech weeks. I finished my evening consulting project. I had just enough time to make a flying visit home to Boston for a weekend before rehearsals started. My parents knew better than to give me shit about my job, but they did bug me about their other favorite Ari topic, AKA when would I find someone and settle down, like my brothers. (My older brother, the doctor in Worcester, was married with a year-old baby girl, and my younger brother, the doctor in Concord, had a long-time live-in boyfriend and an engagement announcement was expected any day.)

“I want more grandchildren,” my mother always said. This time when she said it, I silently got up and passed her my latest set of dragon drawings and a photo of the furniture I’d delivered to the tech mogul.

“Congratulations,”I said dryly. “It’s a pair of end tables and five potential dragon props.”

The rest of the family burst out laughing and even my mother had to crack a smile. She wasn’t an Osgood by birth but she’d embraced the family, its conservatism, and its secret wholeheartedly and was now plus royaliste que le roi about preserving all three. She was determined that I settle down with a nice person of any gender, preferably within an hour of Ipswich, and start producing the next generation of Osgoods. I’d told her numerous times that my job and my passions weren’t conducive to such dreams (particularly the location), but she held fast to the fantasy. At the end of the weekend, I kissed her goodbye, promised to call more, and got on the train to New York.

*****

We held the first rehearsal in one of the back rooms at Lincoln Center. Finally the full cast was together, along with all members of the creative team. I looked around the table, and was impressed by the caliber of the acting talent Barnes and Sam had managed to attract to a children’s theater production. The only one I knew personally was Janet van Dyne, who was playing the old village lady and who’d also been in the Kennedy Center production I’d assistant designed several years earlier. But James “Rhodey” Rhodes was playing the king and May Parker was the queen.

Stephen Strange, who was playing the evil sorcerer, sat at the other end of the table and impatiently tapped his pen against the script. I didn’t know him at all, but rumors painted him as very talented but a bit of a prima donna and sometimes difficult to deal with. I hoped he would behave himself during the production, but it wasn’t really my problem and, knowing Barnes a bit better now, I had every confidence he could handle it.

Almost as if by magic, as soon as Barnes came into my thoughts, he appeared in the room. He looked around the table and smiled, caught my eye and gave me a very quick wink (ugh, that smooth bastard), and then sat down to start the rehearsal.

The rehearsal went smoothly, despite a few caustic comments from Strange which, as I’d predicted, Barnes managed with his usual wizardly charm. We took a break for lunch, and as I was packing up my bag to leave the room, Barnes came up to me, put his hand on my shoulder, and said, “Come grab some lunch with me?” His eyes were bright and pleading, and as I hesitated, he gave me the barest suggestion of a pout. I looked over at Romanov, but she was talking animatedly with Sam. I sighed. “OK,” I said, and his smile was beatific.

“Let’s go to Old John’s,” he said and I readily agreed, happy that he’d picked an old-school luncheonette and not a trendy “eatery” (ugh, that word). We walked north toward the diner, Barnes talking animatedly about the production and me interjecting with interest and enthusiasm but more reserve. We reached the diner and by some minor miracle got seated right away. We ordered drinks and then sat in silence for a minute until Barnes said abruptly, “So, Osgood, tell me about yourself. Boston, right?”

It was a bit awkward and abrupt and not at all his usual smooth, confident style, which took me aback. And then I realized...he was nervous. Probably at least as nervous as I was. I started to try to take the situation in hand.

“Yeah, North Shore, Ipswich,” I said, smiling. “Not far from Danvers and...”

“...Salem,” he interrupted, raising his eyebrows and looking at me pointedly. I remained calm and replied, “Yep, Salem’s just down the road. I don’t go there much when I’m home, though, it’s way too touristy.” And I curled my lip as I returned his stare. Two could play this game. Before he could say anything else, I said, “Where’re you from, Barnes? Brooklyn, right?”

It was his turn to be taken aback, and he said, “How’d you know? I make sure that accent never comes out in public.”

“I have an ear for that stuff,” I said. “Family came over from Ireland at some point?”

“Yeah, mid-1800s, potato famine. Mom’s maiden name was Early. But my dad’s mom was Russian, so not quite totally Irish.” He looked at me teasingly. “But no WASPy background, unlike some people.”

Early. Somehow that name sounded familiar but I couldn’t quite place it. “My mom’s family is Czech and my dad’s mom was Greek,” I said, smirking, “So I’m not quite the complete New England Puritan.” Our drinks came and we ordered burgers.

“Dad’s mom was Greek, huh,” said Barnes, taking a gulp of his Diet Coke. “Is that where the Ari comes from? Ariana? Ariadne?”

“Uh no, it’s...Artemis,” I said quietly, looking into my cranberry juice. “But it’s kind of pretentious and no one can ever pronounce it right, so I stick with Ari.”

“Artemis, huh,” Barnes’ lip curled. I could almost see the wheels turning in his head. “And the ‘Galanis’ in your business name? That Greek too?”

“Yeah,” I said. “It was my grandma’s maiden name...my ya-ya. She was the only one who believed I could make it in theater design. She went to all my shows when I was a kid. When she died a few years ago she left me enough money to buy my place and rent my workshop in Queens. She always encouraged me to follow my heart and my dreams.”

My voice died away and narrowly avoided breaking and I looked into the distance, feeling my eyes prickle. And yet I was smiling fondly, as I always did when I talked and thought about my grandmother. I looked back at Barnes and he was smiling back at me, but with a smoldering spark in his eyes that belied the easy curves of his mouth. The look went beyond the easy camaderie of work colleagues and hinted at something more intense in its depths. My heart skipped a beat as I looked at his perfect and perfectly beautiful face and I swallowed a gasp. Oh man, this fucker. So much trouble.

“She sounds terrific, no wonder you’re using her name for your business,” he said softly, “And her granddaughter is pretty impressive too.” He pushed his hair back from his face an continued to stare at me with that heated glance that went right to my gut...and other places.

I needed a diversion. Quickly.

“So what’s with the hair?” I said, abruptly changing the subject and trying to change the mood. “Needed some authenticity for the play? We have these things called ‘wigs’ you know, they’re amazing and you can put them on your head...”

He laughed and reached over to joke-punch my shoulder across the table. “I’m well acquainted with the concept of wigs,” he said faux-loftily. “But I’ve got a big part in a new superhero movie and the character has long hair so I thought I’d try growing mine out.” Again he ran his hand through his hair; I’d seen him do it so many times before.

“Plus,” he added, eyes twinkling. “It fits this part too, so a win all around.”

Just then our burgers came and we fell on them like ravening wolves - the theater is hungry work, you guys! As we were eating, I said tentatively, “I’ve been talking to the studios and the effects houses - I’ve always wanted to do film work.”

Barnes looked surprised and said, “But your stuff is so alive, so dynamic! It’s perfect for theater. Why do you want to deal with the bullshit nonsense of movies?”

I stopped eating and considered.

“I love theater,” I said. “But it’s so limited, Barnes. Only so many people see live plays, but think how many people can experience your vision when it’s in films that millions go see.” I paused again, then said bluntly, “And the money’s better.”

“You’d be surprised at how the Hollywood suits and number crunchers can take your vision and change it into something unrecognizable,” he said dryly. “And the money isn’t always better, though you’re right, it usually is.” Then he took another sip of Diet Coke and seemed to hesitate.

“Call me Bucky,” he blurted out.

“Wait, what??” I blurted back. “Bucky? Why??”

“It’s my nickname,” he said, flushing a little. “Based on my middle name, Buchanan. But I only allow my friends and family to call me that.”

“James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes,” I mused, picking up a French fry and waving it around. “That’s quite the name, Barn- Bucky,” I corrected, laughing.

“Look who’s talking, Artemis —“ he stopped and gestured at me, prompting me to spill my middle name. I sighed. “Diana,” I said, grimacing.

“Diana?!?” Bucky’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Artemis Diana Osgood. Wow, your parents weren’t messing around.”

“I have two older brothers,” I said, popping the French fry into my mouth. “They couldn’t name them for the goddess of the moon, so they went a little overboard when I came along.”

“I’ll say,” smirked Bucky, finishing his burger. I was impressed that he’d eaten a regular diner meal instead of the I’m-prepping-to-play-a-superhero baked chicken and broccoli you always hear about. There was a brief silence as the server cleared our plates. Then he reached out his hand as if to grab mine and opened his mouth to say something, his eyes sparking with that look I’d seen earlier.

Quick as a wink, I looked up at the clock, said, “Oh wow, Bucky, we’ve got to get back,” grabbed my wallet and pulled out a couple of bills to pay for the meal. He started to protest and I said, “You can get the next one.” He looked like he was going to argue, then smiled ruefully, shook his head, and said, “Artemis, _mo chroi gramhar_ , you are quite something.”

“It’s Ari, Bucky, come on now,” I retorted. Then I grinned and said, “And yes, that’s what I’ve been told by a number of people.”

As we walked back to the theater, Bucky (would I ever get used to that name? Holy shit) started to talk about the production again. We entered through the back of the theater, and took the elevator to the rehearsal room floor. Bucky looked at me with the air of someone who really needs to get something off his chest and said, “You know, we really do need to talk about those dragons soon. I had some more ideas...”

Buoyed by my performance at lunch, I cut him off quickly and said, “Bucky, my boss, my esteemed friend, the dragons are done. We’ve settled on them. They’re built. The tech crew will be installing them in the fly tower next week.” As he started to say something, I said, “You are going to love them, I promise you.”

He took a deep breath, and chuckled. “You are going to be the death of me,” he said quietly. “But I’ll really enjoy dying.”

Then he grabbed me by both arms, pulled me toward him, and enfolded me in a strong hug. My heart beat wildly and my breath shortened. Being in his arms was so comforting, and he smelled amazing, like fresh earth and grass on the first warm day of spring. Despite all my reservations about him (especially Romanov, who was just upstairs), I suddenly wanted to stay there forever. I closed my eyes, put my arms around him, and relaxed into his warmth. He was kissing my hair and then I could feel his breath warm on my ear...

...when the elevator dinged for our floor and we startled apart. (What was it about us and elevators??) The doors opened and we walked out into the hallway, both a little stunned.

“Ari, I...” Bucky started to say in a low, soft growl. I smiled back at him and said gently, “We should really get back to the group.” He nodded slightly, but then grabbed my hand and squeezed it. I felt a flood of dopamine through my system that I couldn’t suppress...and wasn’t sure I wanted to.

As we entered the rehearsal room, he dropped my hand but leaned over and said in a barely audible voice, “We’ll continue this discussion later.” I looked at him, eyes sparkling, and said, “As you wish.” He shook his head but the grin on his face said it all.

Later on the subway home, I googled _mo chroi gramhar_ and the translation was “my darling sweetheart,” of course.

Fuck.


	4. I Burst in Flame and Burned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A no good, very bad day, in which Ari sees the dark side of James Buchanan Barnes

What happened that day in May wasn’t really inevitable, when I look back on it. Things had gotten good - very good - with the production. But theater is theater, artists are artists, and inevitably strong feelings will boil over. And on that day, all the necessary circumstances came together to make the worst happen. I still can’t think about that afternoon without feeling a pain in my chest and actively wincing.

For a few weeks after that first rehearsal in April and our visit to the diner, everything went well with the production of The Dragon Princess. Barnes - oops, Bucky - and I had a few more lunches at Old John’s over those weeks, and while nothing like that elevator hug happened during or after those meals, we got closer as friends and colleagues and got to know each other better. We felt comfortable laughing together, fake-punching each other’s arms, shoulder checking, and just enjoying each other’s company.

I told myself it was better this way, just being friends, especially given Bucky’s relationship with Romanov, but a small part of me wished regularly for something more with him. There was a real spark there - our elevator moments attested to that. And even as we laughed and joked, I often caught him staring at me with that intense/hungry look that said so much more than “let’s be friends.” But then it would disappear in a twinkle, he’d bring up work or movies or something funny he’d seen on the street in Hell’s Kitchen, and I’d be left wondering if I was imagining things.

And if a small part of me wished for something more with Bucky, a substantial part of my subconscious did too. I had the Bucky/dragon dream two or three times a week, and added a new dream to my repertoire. In this one, he appeared in full superhero regalia (including cape and full leather bodysuit) to rescue me from faceless dark villains and spirit me away to a train, where we had freaky sex on the table in an empty dining car. The superhero part made sense (he was due to start shooting that Marvel movie in the fall, after all), but the train part was a mystery.

_Why a fucking train, Ari,_ I thought to myself as I stalked off to the shower after getting myself off with my vibrator the next morning.

_A Fuck Train, haha,_ responded my subconscious, and I simultaneously giggled and groaned for the first time in my life.

*****

Then one Thursday in the third week of May, everything went to shit. It was one of those terrible spring days that make you wonder why the hell you live in the Northeast - cold, rainy, and windy enough to make umbrellas completely useless. Coming after several days of beautiful warm sunny weather, it was like a slap in the face and made everyone instantly grumpy.

Adding to my foul mood was the sudden recurrence of my nightmare from March, the dream that had almost made me turn down the Dragon Princess job. As with last time, I’d wandered around dark, claustrophobic hallways and ended up on the scaffold in front of the crowd of hostile people in old-fashioned black clothes. This time the dream went further and instead of waking up as someone put the noose around my neck, I felt the trap door give under me and the weight of the rope choking me before waking up.

I’d started awake with a gasp and the threat of the dream hung over me as I got ready for work and headed for the subway. I knew it was only a dream, but my throat felt tight and my family and its history felt like an especially heavy weight that day.

I got to the theater that morning and was conscious of a dark vibe as soon as I walked in. We’d started to hold technical rehearsals in the Lincoln Center Theater itself the day before, to test the scenery, props, and effects and make adjustments before dress rehearsals the following week and opening night on the Friday of Memorial Day weekend - which would also be the opening night of the full New York Children’s Theater Festival. Most of the other productions were at smaller theaters in Lincoln Center and the vicinity, but ours was the flagship show and thus the pressure to offer something really special was very high and increasing.

As I walked into the backstage area, the tension only increased. My forehead felt an oppressive pressure and my scalp tingled - and not in a good way. The first person I saw was Bruce Banner, our technical and special effects director. I greeted him cautiously and he said hello but shook his head when I asked how he was.

“It’s gonna be one of those days,” he said glumly.

“Why? What’s going on?” I responded.

“Everyone is already in a bad mood,” he said. “Especially Barnes.”

“He’s here already?” I said anxiously. “I thought I was on time.”

“You are, don’t worry,” Bruce said. “He, Romanov, and Strange got in early to rehearse that first scene with the sorcerer. Things...haven’t gone well. Strange has been irritable and demanding and nothing Barnes suggests is good enough. Plus it seems like Barnes has been upset about something else...I’m not sure what it is...”

“He started his superhero diet earlier this week,” I said, grimacing in sympathy. It’s all baked chicken and kale and broccoli, no more burgers and fries at Old John’s.”

“Oh right, I forgot you two were lunch buddies,” said Bruce, grinning. I rolled my eyes and grinned back. Then I thought about the rehearsal schedule for the day and turned serious.

“Hey, did you get that fire permit from the FD for the dragon?” I said, putting my bag down on a nearby table and pulling out my phone. The fire department had been dragging their feet on pulling the permit for us and I wanted to hear the worst right away. Bruce frowned.

“Yeah, they sent it this morning but it’s not at the fuel or time level we wanted,” he said. We can only do five seconds at a four to five foot range, for either time.”

“Oh shit,” I said, running my fingers through my hair. “That’s not enough. Those dragon scenes really need the fire element to be effective - both at the beginning and at the end with the confrontation. Buck- Barnes is gonna hit the roof about this. Can we do something else that’ll look impressive?”

“Yeah, I was thinking about that,” Bruce said, pulling out a piece of paper. “We could do some lighting effects instead...I’d say we could do a fuckton of glitter vomit but it’s impossible to clean up for the next scene. Kids love glitter, though.”

“They love it because it’s a mess,” I said, smiling grimly. “But you’re right, it won’t work here. What about bright orange fabric? That could look pretty dramatic...”

“If this were a sophisticated show for adults, I’d say yes,” Bruce cut me off. “But it’s kids and they know dragons breathe fire, which is hot and shiny and dangerous. It’s gotta have that wow factor.”

“Oh crap, you’re right,” I said, sighing. “OK, I’ll call my buddy at the FD to see if we can get that permit changed, but in the meantime let’s see what we can do with lighting and maybe that’ll work for Barnes.”

“Yeah right, and maybe I’ll meet a dragon on the subway home later,” Bruce said sarcastically. “We can try it, though.”

“OK, let’s go talk to Scott and Darcy,” I sighed, hoping against hope that the lighting designer and stage manager could save our asses in this situation. “And I’ll try to grab Barnes before that big technical run through of act one this afternoon.”

Bruce and I went in search of Scott Lang, our lighting designer, to see what we could do about making “fire” out of PAR cans and moving head lights. We spent all morning with him setting up the fire sequence and practicing it with the lighting and stage technicians. Then I went to grab a sandwich and talk to Darcy Lewis, the stage manager, about the changes in stage cues with the new lighting sequence. I hadn’t worked with her before but was impressed with her ability to stay organized and herd the creative cats to make everything work.

As we finished up our conversation, I said, “I’ll try to grab Barnes to tell him about this, but if you see him, will you give him an update?”

She grimaced and said, “He’s in a super shitty mood today - didn’t you hear him yelling at Natasha and Janet earlier when they were rehearsing their scene? Janet was off her mark by six inches and he just laid into her. I’m not sure we want to bring this up with him right now.”

I took a deep breath, let it out, and said, “Well, we have to because this shouldn’t come as a surprise to him when we hit that run through. I’ll go look for him now. Get it over with.” I chuckled awkwardly and winked at Darcy. She smiled, shrugged, and said, “Your funeral. But if I catch him first I’ll give him the heads-up.”

“Thanks,” I said, giving her two sarcastic thumbs up and heading off to find Bucky. I hadn’t seen him all day and the pressure in my forehead had not abated, which didn’t bode well for our meeting.

I found him walking down the center aisle of the theater, talking in low tones with someone who might as well have had “movie executive” tattooed on their forehead. She was tall and gorgeous, with long, wavy blonde hair and tanned skin - something no one in New York had in mid-May unless they’d just gotten back from a Caribbean vacation - and wore a three-thousand dollar Armani pantsuit that looked like it had been tailored specially for her, which it probably had.

I walked up to them, trying very hard not to feel like a shlub in my ancient skinny jeans, striped Boden sweater, and worn-in motorcycle boots. (Wearing nice clothes when you’re doing technical work in the theater is pointless and just leaves you with a huge dry cleaning bill.)

“Pardon me, uh,” I began, looking apologetically at the woman before turning to Bucky. “James, can I talk to you for a minute, about the run through later...”

“Not now, Osgood,” Bucky snapped at me, cutting me off. His companion looked at me like I was a piece of dog poop on the sidewalk, and they strode off toward stage left, resuming their conversation.

I stood there, face burning, for a minute and fought to get my feelings and my temper back under control. My forehead throbbed and my left hand tingled with electric energy. _That absolute shithead,_ I thought angrily. _All that talk about being friends - and artistic partners! - and when some bigwig shows up he treats me like a fucking servant._

I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text to Darcy.

**Galanis Designs**

_Hey Darcy, just tried to talk to Barnes, got head bitten off_

**Darcy Lewis**

_Yeah Nat told me he’s with some movie exec, no one can interrupt, ugh *eyeroll emoji*_ 🙄

**Galanis Designs**

_Try to grab him later by himself, I will too_

**Darcy Lewis**

*thumbs up emoji* 👍🏾

Then one of the senior stagehands came up to me to talk about a technical issue with one of the dragons, so I went off to the fly loft to make sure the rigging was set up correctly.

At 4.30, Bucky called for the technical run through of Act I, only an hour late - not bad for a theater schedule. But I still hadn’t talked to him about the new lighting for the dragon fire, and as I came down from the fly loft to stand in the wings at the front of stage left for the run through, I got a text from Darcy on the other side of the stage.

**Darcy Lewis**

_Blondie just left, I didn’t get to talk to him, sorry_

I just texted back “ _Welp_ ” and the moaning face emoji and put my phone on silent for the run through.

*****

If for some unknown reason you don’t remember the Dragon Princess fairy tale from your childhood, the first scene with Dragon #1 is essential to establishing both 1) how large and scary the dragon is, and 2) how close and important the relationship is between the dragon and the princess from the outset. So having the dragon breathe lots of fire (as all Western dragons do) is critical to grabbing the audience and keeping them grabbed.

Bruce’s and my lighting fix was not a permanent solution, and I knew Bucky would hate it, but I also knew that I hadn’t had the chance to discuss it with him and explain the circumstancesahead of time. As we started the run through, Rhodey and May came out onstage as the king and queen, and the puppeteer brought out the 18-month-old Japanese-style princess puppet that I’d designed (I loved that puppet). They started to play out the scene with full lighting and props, and just then I saw Barnes standing, stern-faced, in the middle of the orchestra at about row J.

A minute later the cue came for the dragon and the giant prop swooped noiselessly down from stage right, accompanied by the sound of roaring and the light cues for the fire as we’d designed them that morning. Ten seconds later...

“STOP!!!” came a gargantuan voice from the audience. Everyone onstage halted in their tracks. The dragon came to a rest, suspended in midair. Barnes strode down the aisle, his face a mask of fury.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS??” he bellowed, looking at the actors. Rhodey and May turned white and backed up a step. I stepped out from the wings to deal with this - the actors shouldn’t have to face criticism for technical choices - and saw Bruce walk out behind me on the same side of the stage. Darcy hovered just behind the downstage right curtain, uncertain whether to join in the fray.

“It’s a temporary solution,” I said in a firm voice. “I tried to talk to you about it earlier. We didn’t get the level of fire permit we wanted, so we worked with Scott to...” For the second time that afternoon, Barnes cut me off.

“This is unacceptable!” he yelled. “Dragons don’t breathe lights, they breathe fire! We need a fire effect here or the entire production will be fucking ruined!!”

“I know,” I said, as calmly as I could, and came down to the edge of the stage “and we’re working on it, but...”

“Working on it! This should’ve been done weeks ago!” Barnes vaulted onstage and stopped about two feet from me. His beautiful features were contorted and ugly, and my conservative Osgood side whispered, _See? Dangerous, Ari. Dangerous._

“You know how the FD is,” I started, trying to be reasonable, but he cut me off again.

“Incompetence!” he yelled in my face. “I’m surrounded by incompetence. You came so highly recommended. You’re supposed to be the best in the business, and yet you can’t even get this simple effect right. You say you want to go to Hollywood, but they don’t put up with this kind of bullshit when there’s millions of dollars on the line.” He pushed both hands through his hair and said, “And don’t even get me started on the dragon. This isn’t anything like what we agreed on back in April.”

The level of unfairly directed rage was staggering, and I took a step back. In an effort to remain calm, I said, “This is exactly what we agreed on in April. I’ll talk to my friend in the FD tomorrow.” I ran my fingers through my own hair and said, pleading, “Bucky, let’s handle this like professionals. Let’s...”

“Don’t. Tell. Me. How. To. Be. A. Professional,” said Barnes, in a quiet voice of ice that was ten times scarier than his yelling. A spark kindled in his eyes, but unlike the spark I’d seen at that first lunch at Old John’s this was a spark of pure anger. “And don’t fucking call me Bucky.”

At this onslaught, my own temper rose; my forehead felt as if it were being stabbed with a stiletto and my left hand surged hot. My eyes were blinded by something - was it the stagelights? - and I barely saw Bruce starting to move from upstage and Darcy coming out from the wings on the other side.

Even then, I made a last attempt to salvage the situation and said in my own voice of ice, “Well then, Mr. Barnes, how would you propose to fix this? I’ve offered my solution and will still take care of things tomorrow...”

“Your solution is garbage, your ideas are garbage, and I can’t believe we’re still standing here talking about this. I can’t believe you’re still here in my theater!” he shouted, and then something broke in me. I brought up my hands as if to shield myself from his anger, and the fingers of my left hand were glowing blue. Barnes saw them, and his expression turned in an instant from rage to intense surprise. His beautiful blue eyes opened as wide as they could and his mouth dropped open.

At that moment, Bruce intervened. “Hey guys!” he said in a conciliatory tone as he approached us from upstage. His voice brought me back and quick as a wink, I put down my arms and slouched, hiding my blue left hand in my jeans pocket, where I felt the energy subside. With any luck it wouldn’t burn a hole in my pants. Barnes turned to Bruce and managed to shut his mouth, though his eyes were still wide...and wild. Then he turned back to me. I took a deep breath and stared him straight in the eye.

“Well,” I said. “It appears that I’m neither welcome nor needed here. I’d thought that you valued my contribution and ideas and saw me as a partner in this play, but I guess not. And I’ve never been treated like this on any production I’ve ever worked on, even when I was a design assistant intern at age 19. And,” I said, taking my now normally colored left hand out of my pocket and drawing myself up to my full height, “I’m not about to start now. Goodbye, Mr. Barnes. I’ll email Carol Danvers my resignation tonight. Good luck with the Dragon Princess.”

With that, I turned and strode offstage, blinded by the side lights until I reached the stage door. Then I got my bag and jacket, left my ID badge on a side table, and walked straight out to the subway.

The tears didn’t start until I sat down on the 3 train.


	5. Ever Since I Held Your Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After about 45 minutes the bar had cleared out a bit and there was an empty seat next to me. My mind had cleared and I was considering what I’d write back to Carol when I got home and when I would deal with Barnes’ communications. I’d nursed my first bourbon as long as I felt I could and was pondering ordering a second when Joaquin came over with another one before I’d even signaled him. I looked up at him, confused, and he said, “Compliments of the gentleman,” and looked to my left. I followed his glance.
> 
> James Barnes sat at the corner of the bar.

So I sobbed into my jacket sleeve the entire trip on the crowded 3 train to Times Square, and then all the way down to Canal Street on the R. If you think anyone tried to comfort me or even paid me any attention at all, you don’t know New Yorkers. It wasn’t the first time I’d cried on the subway, and I was pretty sure it wouldn’t be the last. It was great that no one bothered me, actually. I got it all out by the time I got off the R train and then staggered up the stairs at Canal Street, breath coming in ragged gasps.

I still couldn’t believe what had just happened. I’d thought that Barnes and I had a good working relationship, I’d thought we were friends. I’d even thought...there was something more between us than just friends, even though he was dating Romanov. His behavior just now at the technical rehearsal had showed me just what a mirage these thoughts were, just how meaningless our relationship was to him.

My conservative Osgood blood surged up with a magnificent TOLD YOU SO and my usual “fuck off” reply was very weak indeed, especially since he’d seen my glowing blue hand.

I walked heavily back to my loft, and as I walked in my front door, I grabbed my phone to check messages out of habit. I’d left it on mute and in my bag during my cryfest on the way home. There were 10 texts and two voicemails from Barnes, which was either gratifying (if it was him calling to grovel) or terrifying (if it was him calling to yell at me some more). I ignored them for the moment and turned to my email. There was an email from Barnes, subject line: PLEASE CALL ME!!! which I also ignored. The one that caught my eye was from Carol Danvers.

To: Ari Osgood [ari@galanisdesigns.com](mailto:ari@galanisdesigns.com)

From: Carol Danvers [danvers@NYCchildrenstheater.com](mailto:danvers@NYCchildrenstheater.com)

Subject: Deepest apologies

Dear Ari:

James Barnes has just contacted me to inform me of his unprofessional and unacceptable behavior during rehearsal this afternoon. He is very sorry for his actions, and has let me know that you’ll be getting in touch with me to resign from the production of The Dragon Princess.

I wanted to preempt your resignation email and request that you consider staying on with this production. Your designs and presence have brought a unique gift to the play, and you are universally respected and liked among the cast and crew. Barnes has let me know that he will formally apologize to you, both in writing and in front of the production team. I will be at the theater tomorrow to meet with him, and (I hope) you to work things out.

Of course, I will respect your right to resign from the production; the Festival will remit your full salary regardless of your decision. Please reconsider leaving, though, and I hope to see you tomorrow.

All the best,

Carol

Even in my current emotional state, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t touched by Carol’s email. That she acknowledged my grievance and left both options open to me were fairly rare occurrences in the theater world - people (especially women) were expected to suck it up when people in power (usually men) gave in to tantrums and abuse. In such a difficult, painful situation, it was a relief to see someone being a professional and being sympathetic at the same time. I wasn’t ready to write her back right away, though.

And I wasn’t ready to face Barnes’ communications, either. Based on Carol’s email, it looked like he was contrite, but even so I was still deeply hurt by our fight that afternoon. His words and actions replayed over and over in my head, and they seemed to go straight to the heart of my fears and insecurities. I’d let him into my heart, even reluctantly, even just a bit, and he’d betrayed me. It was hard to take.

After sitting in my apartment for an hour, fretting and pacing and eating whatever I could grab out of the fridge, I decided I needed a change of scene. I splashed some cold water on my face, threw on some makeup, and headed out to Antler, a wine bar on Allen Street a few blocks from my loft. I often went there and had a drink and some snacks at the bar. It had a low-key vibe that was just different enough from my apartment to make a nice change when I needed to think or just wanted to be around other people. I grabbed my phone, keys, cards, and some cash, stuffed them in my jeans pockets, and headed out.

*****

It was about 6.45 and Antler was pretty packed with the after-work crowd. But after a couple of minutes a seat opened up at the bar and I snagged it. The noise level was high but not so high that you couldn’t hear the music. Joaquin, my favorite bartender, was behind the bar and when I waved to him he blew me a kiss and indicated he’d be over in a minute. Shortly thereafter he brought me my usual, a Blanton’s on the rocks, and a dish of peanuts. I leaned over the bar and kissed him on the cheek. He looked surprised (I’m not usually super demonstrative) but pleased and said, “querida Ari” as he headed off to take care of another customer.

After about 45 minutes the bar had cleared out a bit and there was an empty seat next to me. My mind had cleared and I was considering what I’d write back to Carol when I got home and when I would deal with Barnes’ communications. I’d nursed my first bourbon as long as I felt I could and was pondering ordering a second when Joaquin came over with another one before I’d even signaled him. I looked up at him, confused, and he said, “Compliments of the gentleman,” and looked to my left. I followed his glance.

James Barnes sat at the corner of the bar.

When I saw him, he lifted his own drink and saluted me, and then gave me a look that was part-pleading, part-hopeful, and part-that intense, spark-filled gaze he’d given me at Old John’s weeks ago. I jumped a little in my seat and grimaced, startled to see the the object of my focused thought materialized in my favorite bar. Then in a supreme effort to be civil, I lifted the new glass, saluted him back, and mouthed “Thank you.”

Barnes motioned to the empty seat next to me and mimed “May I join you” from across the bar. I hesitated for a moment, then nodded. As he picked up his drink and moved toward me, my nerves started to waver and I had to suppress the urge to pound my bourbon before he reached me in order to deal with what was coming. Instead I took a deep breath, touched my left thumb and forefinger together, and said a few words inside my head to calm myself.

He sat on the seat next to me with an almost-shy look on his face and said softly, “Hi.”

“Hi,” I said, trying to still my heartbeat and my breathing. I was annoyed that even after his monumentally shitty performance that afternoon, he could still provoke a physical reaction in me.

“Thanks for the drink,” I said. “Are you stalking me? I didn’t realize I’d accepted you on Find my Friends,” and I raised my eyebrows at him.

He looked guilty for a second and said, “No! I mean, I’m not stalking you. This is pure coincidence.” Then he gave me a small smile. “I didn’t realize you were a regular here.”

“It’s almost a neighborhood bar for me,” I said lightly. “I live a bit south of here on Ludlow.”

His eyes widened. “I’m just up on Eldridge, south of...”

“...Houston, right,” I finished for him, taking a sip of my bourbon.

“So we’re practically neighbors.” His smile got wider, and then he must have remembered that we were in the midst of an epic fight because his expression turned serious in an instant.

“Listen,” he said. “I didn’t come looking for you, but I’m so glad I found you. Can we talk? I know there is no excuse for my behavior today, but you deserve an explanation. And about a thousand more apologies.” His eyes gave me that pleading-hopeful-intense look again.

“Sure,” I said, a little coldly. The pain of that afternoon was still raw, and my ego - and my heart - were still bruised. “Explain away.” He looked abashed.

“Can we go in the back, where it’s quieter?” he asked, biting his lip. “You deserve my full attention,” he said, and then his eyes danced. “And some snacks and more drinks.” He motioned to Joaquin and ordered a couple of appetizers to the back room. Joaquin looked at me quizzically to make sure I was okay, and I nodded and said, “It’s fine.”

We took our drinks and headed to the back room, where there was a corner table away from the crowds and noise. Only one or two other couples were back there at that point, and no one was playing Ms. Pac Man. I knew it would get crowded again later, but for now it was quiet and secluded and the music was mellow. We settled at the table and I looked at him expectantly.

Barnes took a deep breath, looked me square in the face, and said, “First of all, whether you’ve seen my texts and emails or heard my voicemails at all - and I wouldn’t blame you if you haven’t - I just wanted to say how sorry I am about this afternoon. The way I acted was unacceptable and unconscionable, and I should never have said or done those things - to anyone, but especially to you.” His glance softened as his eyes took me in.

“No,” I said shortly. “You shouldn’t have. It was not OK, Barnes.”

He colored slightly at hearing me say his last name, and then said, sighing, “I deserve that. Especially when I ordered you not to call me Bucky.” I shrugged.

“Okay,” he said. “Here’s what happened. Like I said, this isn’t an excuse, but I want you know what’s going on with me and why I lost it like that. You saw me in the theater with Nicole...with that blonde woman earlier today.” I nodded.

“You may not know it but she’s a senior exec at Marvel,” he continued. I raised my eyebrow and smirked at him.

“You know I’m not new to this business, right, Barnes?” I said sardonically. “She might as well have had ‘movie exec’ embroidered on her Armani suit.”

He chuckled. “Point taken,” he said. “Anyway, she was there to tell me that there was some concern about my ability to handle and open a major superhero movie, and that they wanted me to come out to LA in June to retest. She also dropped a few hints,” he said wryly, “that they were talking to Henry Cavill and Fassbender about the part.”

My mouth dropped open a bit. “But...but...you’re signed to that movie,” I said. “You have a contract and everything.”

“Yeah, well...” he said, running his fingers through his hair and tucking a piece behind his ear. “You know how Hollywood is. Or you will, if you get what you want and start doing movie design.” He sighed. “Nicole also told me that they were using the Dragon Princess as a major test to see if I can really star in a production and bring people in to see it.”

“I don’t understand,” I said frowning. “This is a children’s theater festival. How is that similar to opening a major movie?”

“It’s a really big deal, especially with the Stark Foundation sponsoring it,” Barnes responded. “It gets a lot of visibility from movie studios as well as the theater world - that’s why it’s so easy to get all these big actors and creative directors to join the production.”

“Anyway,” he continued. “It was a really excruciating and stressful conversation with Nicole, but I should never have treated you the way I did, cutting you off like that. And I saw the way Nicole looked at you, like you were some sort of peasant. I shouldn’t have let that stand either, but I was too chickenshit to call her on it.”

“Well, let’s face it, she kind of had you by the balls, given what you were discussing,” I said ruefully. “But I was pretty upset when you wouldn’t even give me 30 seconds.”

“I know, I saw it in your face,” he said, leaning toward me. “Again, I’m so sorry. You were trying to give me a heads-up about the fire permit and the lighting, weren’t you?”

“Yeah,” I said, taking another sip of my drink.“I just didn’t want you to be surprised. Darcy tried to grab you, too.”

“I know,” he said. I saw her through the door as Nicole and I were talking, but I waved her away. I really only have myself to blame for being surprised by the change. You both tried to tell me but I was too wrapped up in this other stupid meeting.”

He paused and swirled his whiskey around in his glass. “The other part of my explanation to you,” he said after a minute, “is personal.” He paused again and finished his drink in a huge slug.

“My mother...” he started, and stopped. I waited. Silence.

“Part of the Early family?” I prompted, again trying to remember why that name sounded so familiar. I’d never googled it after our conversation at Old John’s.

“Yeah,” he laughed abruptly, awkwardly. “Yeah. Winifred Early Barnes. She’s been such a driving force in my life. Encouraged me to follow my acting dreams, even when my father wanted me to do something more practical. Law. Finance.”

I chuckled awkwardly for a few seconds myself. The conservative family dynamic. It sounded all too familiar.

“Anyway,” he said after a minute, “she’s been feeling poorly the last month or so and we finally got her to go to the doctor. Yesterday the test results came in. She has stage three ovarian cancer.” He choked back a sob and his eyes glistened with tears.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, Barnes,” I said, laying my hand on top of his on the table. He grabbed my hand with both of his and squeezed it hard.

Then he wiped his eyes and said, “Today I felt...lost and at sea. And angry...I’m so angry. It’s just so unfair about my mom. And then this meeting with Nicole on top of that and I saw the dragon without the fire and I saw you and just...vented it all on you. And you tried to handle it so professionally and it just made me angrier. Like red in front of a bull. And I said and did unforgivable things,” he continued, sniffling.

“They were terrible,” I admitted. “I’m sorry about the meeting, and especially about your mom, but you can’t just take it out on your colleagues, Barnes.” I finished my bourbon to steel myself for the truth bomb. “We’ve known each other for a while, and up ‘til now you’ve treated me like a valued team member...like an equal. It was pretty devastating to hear you take me down like that this afternoon, and in front of the cast and crew. That was just wrong.”

“I know,” he said, frowning, and hit his clenched fist on the table. “And you’re entirely justified in quitting this production right now and telling me to fuck off.” Joaquin appeared, and Barnes ordered another round of drinks for us.

“But I really hope,” he continued after Joaquin walked away, “that you’ll reconsider and come back to the theater tomorrow. I’ll apologize to you in front of everyone and make things right. I’ll go along with whatever solution you and Bruce come up with for the dragons. Just...” and here he grabbed my hand again, “please...PLEASE don’t leave things this way. I need you.”

His eyes lit up and his expression turned hopeful and pathetically sorry at once. My forehead tingled and I caught a quick sensation of cool breeze.

“You know that doesn’t work on me, right?” I said, giving him a challenging stare. “It might work on rich old white dudes who could finance your production of _Picnic_ , but I’m immune.”

Barnes’ mouth dropped open for a second, then he tipped his head back, grabbed his stomach, and laughed and laughed. “Oh my god,” he said, once he’d caught his breath. “I’d forgotten you were at that meeting.”

“But seriously,” he said, solemn again. “What do I need to do to get you back to work tomorrow? I really do need you, and I’m so sorry I was such a miserable prick today. I promise you it won’t happen again. Really, I promised Please? I’ll do anything, Ari, really.”

His sincerity was undoubtable, and I sighed to myself. I was still smarting from the afternoon’s debacle, and my Osgood genes were still telling me to beware. But my Galanis side was urging me to take the risk, even if it meant being hurt or dealing with failure.

I took a deep breath and said, “Anything?” turning on him with doubtful eyes.

“Anything,” Barnes repeated, smiling at me.

“OK,” I said. “I’ll come back tomorrow but I want a public apology AND a framed certificate saying how awesome I am and how you’ll never doubt me or treat me that way again. I’ll dictate the wording to you right now.”

“Wait, what?” he said, confused.

“Get your phone out,” I said, shaking my hand at him imperiously. He grinned and complied. “Now write this down. ‘I, James Buchanan Barnes, do solemnly swear that Ari Osgood is the best production designer in all the land...’”

As I dictated the certificate language to Barnes, Joaquin came over with a new round of drinks, two giant water glasses, and a plate of fries and chicken tenders. I thanked him and he smiled and walked away.

“‘And I’ll never question her judgment again, forever and ever, amen’” said Barnes, finishing the dictation and putting down his phone. “Okay. Done. What else do you need me to do?”

I smiled an evil smile. “Now I need you to eat fries and chicken tenders with me,” I said, picking up a fry, dipping it in ketchup, and popping it in my mouth with exaggerated chewing sounds. “Mmm mmm mmmm...”

He let out his breath and said, “Oh man, OK. I’ll get back to the superhero diet tomorrow.” Then he grabbed a chicken tender and took a huge bite. “Oh God, that is so good.”

“Finish it, Barnes,” I ordered, getting my own chicken tender and chowing down. Within ten minutes we had demolished the apps and were well on our way to finishing our drinks.

“OK, Mistress Ari,” said Barnes then, making a sweeping gesture over the empty plates. “What else?”

I looked at my watch. “In about twenty minutes, they are gonna start karaoke here,” I said. “I know the guy who runs it...”

“Owen, yeah, me too,” Barnes interrupted. “How have we never been here at the same time...?”

“Unimportant,” I said loftily, making a dismissive motion with my hand and having another sip of bourbon. Jesus H on a popsicle stick, I was getting toasted. “When he gets here, you will open the festivities by singing a song of my choosing. Actually, scratch that, two songs. And they had better be good,” I said, looking at him pointedly.

Barnes grinned. “Done,” he said. Then he looked at our glasses, almost empty, and said, “I feel like I’m behind on the count.”

“Then you’d best catch up, dude,” I said dryly. (Dude? I never called anyone “dude,” I was definitely on my way to being sloshed.) He smiled and said, “I guess I’d better,” stood up and said, “Wait,” and disappeared in the direction of the bar. He came back a few minutes later with a tray of seven tequila shots, salt, and limes, and put them on our table. I looked at them and raised my eyebrows at him.

“These are all for you, right, Barnes?” I said, a nervous feeling rising up in my throat. What kind of nonsense had I unleashed tonight?

“Oh no,” he said, picking up a lime slice from the tray. “I’ll go first and then we split them. Evens. So there’s six after this, that makes three for each of us...”

“I know how to fucken count, Barnes,” I said sarcastically, trying to manage the panic that threatened to seriously harsh my current buzz. The last time I’d done shots was in college and the next day...had not been pretty. These days I was not a heavy drinker at the best of times, but the gauntlet had been thrown down and I felt I had to accept it in the name of honor and personal pride.

Barnes picked up a shot, downed it, and then sucked on the lime wedge. As he did that, quick as a wink I placed my left thumb and forefinger over my shot, closed my eyes and said a few words. The tequila in the glass glittered briefly and then returned to normal.

As Barnes put down the glass and the lime wedge, he motioned to my glass. “OK,” I said, pretending to hesitate, “I’ll drink this but I’m not drinking my other two until after each of your songs, got it?” He grinned.

“As you wish, Mistress Ari,” he said.

I picked up the shot glass, closed my eyes, downed it, and sucked on another lime wedge. The tequila burned my throat going down, but I knew instantly that it wouldn’t affect me. My panic subsided. I could live on my current bourbon buzz all night and not be a total wreck in the morning. I opened my eyes, and saw Barnes staring at me with a smile and the same smoldering look he’d given me in the elevator last month.

“You know, you and I...” he said, and paused as if making up his mind about something. “We make a really good team, you know? We work together really well...barring my monumental fuck-up today. And if you hadn’t figured it out already, I’m...very taken with you.”

My heart skipped a beat and a sudden warmth flooded my chest. But then I remembered that for someone who talked about being very taken with me, he was...very taken.

“What about Romanov,” I said quietly, looking at him with serious eyes.

“Nat? What about her?”

“Aren’t you two together?”

He raised his eyebrows and said, “We broke up right after Valentine’s Day. She and Sam started dating last month.”

My brain was struggling to process this information. “So you...and she...”

“...are not a couple,” Barnes finished, a shit-eating grin crossing his face.

“Oh,” I said flatly, feeling my cheeks flush. “Guess I’m behind on my backstage gossip.”

“Guess you are,” he said, eyes twinkling. Fuck. My last defense crumbled against his charm onslaught and I realized I was really in for it now.

A minute later, Owen the karaoke host walked into the room and started setting up his laptop. I went over, gave him a quick hug, and gave my instructions to him on Barnes’ songs. At the end of my speech, Barnes himself came over, shook Owen’s hand, and shot the shit with him for a few minutes. It was clear that he was already...well-lit. His eyes sparkled, his cheeks were pinker than usual, and he laughed loudly as he and Owen made stupid jokes.

Once Owen was set up, he sang “New York State Of Mind” as a sound check. A few people had come in for the karaoke, but it was early and the crowd was still pretty sparse. Then Owen called Barnes up to the mike, and the beginning of “I’ve Never Been to Me” by Charlene played through the sound system.

Barnes turned to me, mouth open, and said, “Oh fuck, Ari.” I smiled at him and indicated he should carry on. So he took a deep breath, and said into the mic, “Ladies and gentlemen, this song is dedicated to my dearest Ari.” And then he started to sing.

His voice was good but not professional quality - I could tell he had sung at drama camp as a kid, but it was evident he hadn’t pursued it in adult life. But following the sacred rules of karaoke, he leapt in and gave it his all, committing to every last lyric. I felt a pleasant tingling in my forehead and left hand, and then a funny feeling in my gut that I’d never felt before with anyone. For anyone.

As Barnes sang, more people began to filter into the room and it became clear that something special was happening. The energy of the space veered positive and I could swear I felt a cool breeze cross my face. He’d been singing the first few verses primarily looking at the video screen, but when he reached the super-cheesy spoken word part, he looked directly at me.

_Hey, you know what paradise is? It's a lie. A fantasy we create about_

_People and places as we'd like them to be. But you know what truth is?_

_It's that little baby you're holding, and it's that man you fought with_

_This morning, the same one you're going to make love with tonight._

_That's truth, that's love_

Now it was my turn to sit there with my mouth open, as if electrified. While Barnes had retained the over-the-top cheesiness of the original, he’d also infused that verse with a sincerity and a passion that at least began to reveal to depth of his feelings for me. I knew I was impervious to whatever bullshit atmosphere he was spinning for the room but even so, my head spun with a sensation that had nothing to do with alcohol and my throat went dry.

As the song ended, Barnes blew me a kiss, and the growing crowd erupted in cheers and clapping. I stood stock still for a moment and then joined them. The guys at the next table leaned over and tapped me on the shoulder, and one of them mouthed, “ _GURL_ ” at me with starry eyes. I shrugged and smiled, too overcome to do much of anything else.

Owen then announced that “James” would be doing one more song before he opened up the mike for the night. As he did so, Barnes turned to me and gave me the “bottoms up” sign for my next shot. I didn’t have the chance to alter the drink, so it went down my throat full-strength. Shit. Barnes turned away to talk to Owen for a few seconds, and I then took the opportunity to hold my hand over my remaining shot and say a few words. Phew.

Then Barnes saw the title of his second song, tilted his head back, and laughed.

“OK, everyone,” he said, flashing a lopsided smile. “Please join me in singing this tribute to our dear departed Whitney” and then broke into “How Will I Know.” He had a surprisingly good falsetto and knew just how to get the crowd involved. They - OK, we - couldn’t get enough. We sang along, and at the end, Barnes, pulled me up on the stage, wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and made me sing backup. By that point my full-strength tequila shot had kicked in and I was game for anything.

As we finished the song, amidst the cheering of the crowd, Barnes leaned over and gave me an exaggerated kiss on the cheek. Then he moved his mouth and I felt his hot breath on my ear.

“Ari,” he said through the noise, “You are amazing, and I really want you...to know that. Thank you.” I felt his lips come together softly to kiss me just below my ear, and then he nipped me in the same spot. That and his whispered double entendre sent a tremendous jolt to my stomach...and my crotch. Somehow I’d gone from rage to...lust? Adoration? Enchantment? in just a few hours. It was disorienting, but heady.

We went back to our table and Owen called up the next singer. Barnes pointed at my shot and said, “Drink.”

“Alright, Barnes, alright,” I said, again feigning hesitation and rolling my eyes. He picked up his next shot, clinked it against my glass, and we both drained our drinks. Again I felt relief as the alcohol-free tequila hit the back of my throat. He picked up my hand as we finished.

“Call me Bucky again? Please?” he pleaded, his lower lip breaking into a pout. I looked at him and suddenly had to restrain the urge to take that lip between my teeth. I sighed and pretended to think about it.

“Okay. Bucky,” I said, smiling at him. He smiled back and lifted my hand to his mouth, and pressed a deep kiss into my palm, never breaking eye contact. My breath caught in my throat and the sound of the room roared in my ears. I felt dizzy even though I wasn’t drunk. God, he was so beautiful.

For the next twenty or thirty minutes, we sat and listened to the karaoke singers. (Well, OK, we mostly sat and listened, but we both did get up and use the facilities. Booze - it goes straight through you! Plus Joaquin kept refilling our water glasses.)

Bucky either sang along or whispered a stream of wickedly caustic commentary into my ear. But he never once let go of my hand. He also downed his last shot. As much as I wasn’t drunk, I was still pleasantly buzzed and immersed in FEELINGS that were at once incredibly pleasurable and incredibly scary.

I really wanted this man. I really...*liked* this man. The intensity of my feelings was overwhelming, and all at once I realized why my subconscious had us combusting in my dragon dreams. We were both passionate people - how would we work as a couple without hurting each other? And though my emotions veered so heavily toward attraction, my Osgood voice reminded me, even now in my alcohol- and fun-fueled adoration, that he was not to be trusted and could turn on me at any moment. I sighed and squeezed Bucky’s hand.

Bucky then turned to me and said in my ear, “Well, my dearest darling Mistress Ari, I think it’s high time we blew this popsicle stand.” His words were slurred. He leaned forward to stand up, but then thought better of it and leaned back in his chair, saying, “Ooh boy.” I suddenly realized I had a gorgeous but hammered man on my hands; I’d been so busy avoiding getting drunk myself that I hadn’t kept track of Bucky’s intake.

“OK, Bucky. Buddy. It’s time to get you home,” I said firmly, and helped him to his feet. His arm flailed out and just barely missed sending our entire tray of empty glasses to the floor. Oh crap. It looked like I was going to have to walk/carry him home. Thank goodness he only lived a few blocks away. I remembered that I had done this once before at Antler when my last girlfriend had gone overboard with her margaritas, so at least I had some experience.

However, my last girlfriend wasn’t six feet tall and 200 pounds. Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Antler is a real live wine bar in New York, but I don’t think they have karaoke there.


	6. Ever Since I Kissed Your Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As if by magic, at that moment Joaquin appeared with the credit card and the slips and a pen and carefully put it in Bucky’s hands. Bucky looked at the pen for a few seconds as if he expected it to do something sinister, then he appeared to remember what a pen was. He took the slip and with immense concentration, added an enormous tip for Joaquin, then signed his name with such a flourish that I was afraid he’d rip the paper. 
> 
> Then he turned to me, blew out his cheeks, and made a raspberry noise. It was so like something the dull-witted boy would do in The Dragon Princess that I burst out laughing. Bucky’s eyes got wide, as if he couldn’t believe he’d made me laugh like that and my laughter was an incredible gift, then he reached out and touched my face.
> 
> “Ari,” he said, glassy-eyed, smiling like his face would split in two. “Ari. You’re the best. You’re my favorite.” 
> 
> “Bucky,” I said as my laughter subsided. “You’re my favorite too. Let’s go home.” He nodded, then his head dropped forward toward the floor again.

So here I was at Antler, having lived through a whirlwind of emotions and deciding to acknowledge and act on my feelings for my current crush, only to realize that said crush was three sheets to the wind and would basically need to be carried home. Fuck.

As I staggered through the back room into the main bar under the weight of James “Bucky” Barnes, I caught Joaquin’s eye as he set down a drink in front of someone. He came over as soon as he could and helped me ease Bucky onto an empty barstool, then pulled me a little aside. The bar was packed and sound system music played loudly, but you could still just hear a little of the karaoke in the other room.

“He’s wasted,” said Joaquin, eyes wide.

“Yeah.”

“What’re you gonna do?”

“I think I can get him home. He doesn’t live that far from here.” I dug in my pocket as I said, “Let me settle the tab.”

“Nah, I’ve got his card, he told me to put all you guys’ charges on it,” said Joaquin. “Do you think he can sign the bill?” I shrugged.

“Who knows? Let’s give it a try, see if he can still hold a pen.” I stifled a giggle. I wasn’t wasted, per se, but I still felt a warm buzz and was starting to see the humor in the situation.

Joaquin went back behind the bar and I returned to Bucky; his head was dropped forward and he appeared to be staring very intently at something on the floor near the bar. I put my hand on his shoulder.

“Bucky,” I said loudly. Nothing.

“Bucky. BUCKY!” His head shot up.

“Yes, Ari my love,” he said with a dopey smile. I leaned closer toward his ear.

“Let’s head home, huh? I think we’re done for the night.” He nodded.

“Yesssss....” he trailed off, then looked confused. “Didn’t I say that already in the other room?”

“Yes, of course you did,” I soothed. “We just need to settle up and then we’ll get going.”

“Settle up?” his forehead wrinkled with the effort of concentration. “Settle up?” I waited a second. “OH, RIGHT!” he almost yelled. “THE TAB.”

“Right, Bucky, my dearest Buck, my most precious Buckminster,” I responded, stroking his arm and trying not to get hysterical.

As if by magic, at that moment Joaquin appeared with the credit card and the slips and a pen and carefully put it in Bucky’s hands. Bucky looked at the pen for a few seconds as if he expected it to do something sinister, then he appeared to remember what a pen was. He took the slip and with immense concentration, added an enormous tip for Joaquin, then signed his name with such a flourish that I was afraid he’d rip the paper.

Then he turned to me, blew out his cheeks, and made a raspberry noise. It was so like something the dull-witted boy would do in The Dragon Princess that I burst out laughing. Bucky’s eyes got wide, as if he couldn’t believe he’d made me laugh like that and my laughter was an incredible gift, then he reached out and touched my face.

“Ari,” he said, glassy-eyed, smiling like his face would split in two. “Ari. You’re the best. You’re my favorite.”

“Bucky,” I said as my laughter subsided. “You’re my favorite too. Let’s go home.” He nodded, then his head dropped forward toward the floor again.

I turned to Joaquin and said, “Thank you. I owe you one.”

“Are you kidding?” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “I just got a huge tip and you’re the one dragging him home. Are you sure you’ll be OK? Do you want me to come with you?”

“Nah, I don’t wanna tear you away from work or get you in trouble...” I said doubtfully, though I wasn’t sure how this was going to work all by myself.

“No trouble,” Joaquin said, smiling and flexing his biceps. Then out of the blue I realized how I could make this work and not drag Joaquin out of the bar. I pulled Bucky’s phone out of his pocket and used his FaceID to open it. I opened Lyft and showed Joaquin the app.

“The magic of Lyft!” I chirped, and then made a show of poking at the phone screen. Joaquin looked doubtful.

“Will Lyft take you three or four blocks?” he asked.

“They will if I give them a huge tip, courtesy of Mr. Moneybags here,” I said, jerking my head toward Bucky’s sagging form. “All I have to do is get him outside, no problem.”

“I can help you...” Joaquin started but I cut him off. “No need!” I said, flexing my own not-too-shabby biceps (thanks, lumber and power tools!). “I can get him twenty feet to the curb.”

“Okay,” Joaquin said. “But hey, stop by tomorrow or over the weekend and let me know you’re alright and got home safe. Okay?”

“Will do,” I said cheerily, and geared up to lift Bucky off the stool. “Hey Bucky, we’re all set! Let’s go!”

He lifted up his head as if just waking up from a nap and said, “Go? Go where?”

“Home!” I said, getting my shoulder under his armpit. Under the fumes of tequila I could still smell that lovely earth and grass on the first day of spring scent, and decided that it had to be his aftershave or deodorant. The scent sent another jolt of electricity to my stomach (and crotch) before I got myself under control and reminded myself that I had a job to do, as the object of my lust was currently more or less incapable of self-transport. I waved to Joaquin, and staggered under Bucky’s weight out the door of the bar.

*****

Outside the bar, the air was fresh and a quiet wind blew through the trees. The nor’easter had passed and while the temperature was still cool, a hint of spring warmth had returned. The city and car lights glistened in the puddles that dotted the streets.

The fresh air seemed to revive Bucky a bit, though he was still pretty wobbly, and he raised his head and looked at me.

“We taking a Lyft?” he asked as we turned left and started shuffling down the street away from the bar.

“Nah, change of plan,” I said, looking around. Even though the storm had subsided, there were very few people on Allen Street, and they were obviously intent on getting home or into the bar or the nearby cafe. I put my left thumb and forefinger together, set them right under the place where my shoulder joined Bucky’s armpit, and said a few quiet words to myself. My fingers glowed red for an instant. Suddenly I felt stronger and he felt lighter, and I knew I’d be able to get him the rest of the way to his apartment.

The effect on Bucky was electric. He started and cried, “WHAT...what happened???” and then he looked at me with a wild expression. I smiled at him in what I hoped was a calming way.

“Hey,” I said gently. “Hey, it’s alright. We’re just gonna walk the few blocks to your place, OK? You can do that, right?”

“Of course I can,” he said, looking momentarily both dignified and affronted, which was hilarious in someone so hammered. “I can walk, you know, Ari.”

“I do know that, Bucky,” I replied, “But you’ve had quite a bit to drink so I’m gonna come with you and make sure you make it home. Does that work?” He grinned.

“Yes!” he said with enthusiasm. “I’d love to have you come home with me.” And as drunk as he was, turned his patented Intense Stare(TM) and crooked smile on me. As amusing as it was to see these on someone that wasted, I had to admit they still worked as I was immediately tempted to lean forward several inches to touch his lips to mine...

_OK, Osgood, keep it together,_ a voice in the back of my head piped up drily. _You need to make sure he gets home and you both don’t end up in a back alley dumpster._

“Well, I’ll get you home and then we’ll figure out what happens after that, OK?”

“OK, Ari, whatever you say,” said Bucky, closing his eyes and staring dreamily up at the sky for a minute.

We walked up Allen Street and turned left on Rivington. Bucky seemed somehow energized by the fresh air (or was it my strengthening move outside the bar?) and started talking so much and so quickly I could not get a word in edgewise.

“What a great night,” he said, grinning. “I’m having so much fun with you...and I’m so glad you’ve forgiven me. You’ve forgiven, me, right??” he turned worried eyes my way. “Although I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t. God I was such an asshole today. I’ve never been such an asshole in my whole career, my whole life, honestly, I don’t know what was wrong with me. I mean, I *do* know, but c’mon, that’s not an excuse. And you were so mad at me, even though you were so calm and professional about it! What were you going to do?”

I stared at him, “Do about what? You being an asshole? When?”

“When your hand glowed blue like that. Oh Jesus, I was so surprised, I thought you were going to strike me down or something.”

At this point we turned up Eldridge Street and must not have been too far from Bucky’s place.

_Bloody fucking hell,_ I thought, and then made an instant decision to play dumb.

“Blue hand? Bucky, darling, what are you talking about?” I laughed and bumped hips with him playfully as we walked.

“Your fingers...when we were fighting onstage...were glowing blue...” he said, although now there was a note of doubt in his voice. I struck fast.

“I think you just saw them through the stage left lights,” I said with careless confidence. “There’s a blue can at about shoulder height right there.”

Bucky was obviously going to say something, then hesitated for a moment. Whatever it was, I never got to hear it, because he laughed and said, “Ah, that makes sense. Funny, though, you looked like the sorcerer for a minute.”

“I look like Stephen Strange?” I said with just the right amount of jokingly delivered manufactured incredulity to spur a change of subject. “Take it back.”

“No, you are so much better looking than Stephen Strange,” Bucky said with a depth of reverence that emphasized just how attractive I was to him. I blushed with the compliment and gave an inward sigh of relief that we’d stopped talking about my blue hand.

“Here we are,” he said, approaching a modest doorway that nonetheless opened into a quietly luxurious lobby. There was no doorman at this hour, but there was a desk where one obviously sat during the day. He punched in a code and we entered the building and headed to the elevator. “I’m on the fourth floor.”

DING - the elevator doors opened and we got on. I’d still been supporting him with my shoulder but without warning he disengaged his arm, grabbed my hand in both of his, and kissed my wrist, his lips hot against my skin. A thought came unbidden to my head about how those lips would feel on other body parts, and my breathing sped up.

“Seriously, though, you are SO MUCH better looking than Stephen Strange,” he growled. “Ari...”

We made it to the fourth floor and got off the elevator. As we neared his door, Bucky grabbed my shoulders and looked intensely into my face. It was distractingly like that time on the elevator at Lincoln Center after lunch, only this time we were both drunk. And alone. In his apartment.

“Ari...” he said again, this time in little more than a whisper.

My stomach jolted and my throat went dry, and then my brain went foggy for a moment. I am not a good liar by nature and the last few minutes lying to Bucky had taken it out of me. Add to this the emotional turmoil of the day, the bourbon, and walking home supporting a superhero-in-training using a strengthening spell, and I suddenly felt woozy and light-headed. Grey spots appeared in front of my eyes and I could feel the blood draining from my face. Shit.

“Ari?” Bucky said in a much different tone of voice. “Ari?” His face turned concerned. Then things went sort of all grey and everything seemed to get very far off and very quiet. 

*****

A minute or two (an hour? A decade?) later, I came back to myself. There was a cool breeze and a delicious smell of earth and vetiver and freshly cut grass in the air. I still felt tired but things were no longer far away, and I felt much less weary. Bucky and I were standing in the middle of what must have been his living room. His forehead rested against mine and his left hand cupped the side of my face with his fingers against my right temple. His eyes were closed but his lips moved minutely.

“Hey,” I said softly, not sure for a moment that I’d said it out loud. But I must have, because Bucky opened his eyes and pulled his head away from mine.

“ _Mo chroi_ ,” he whispered. “Are you okay? I thought I’d lost you there for a minute.”

“I’m okay,” I said, taking a deep breath. Then I looked at him squarely in the face. “You ever have a moment when things just get...TOO MUCH?”

Bucky laughed and brought his other hand up so both hands were carding through my hair.

“Frequently,” he said drily. “Today.”

I suddenly remembered all the drama earlier in the day and then our ridiculous night and Bucky’s over-indulgence and said in a rush, “Oh my gosh, I’m supposed to be taking care of you right now. Are *you* okay? You look less unsteady on your feet now, somehow.”

“Yes, the drunkenness has faded quite a bit - I have a pretty good tolerance and happily it passes through me fairly quickly. But you,” he said, kissing my forehead, “you must have the strength of a rhino, to be doing so well after all that alcohol.”

I blushed a little, casting my mind back to how I’d actually been able to handle those shots.

“Yes, well,” I said, chuckling self-consciously, “I handle my booze pretty well too.” To distract him from this awkward subject matter, I stepped back, looked around and said, “So...this is your place? It’s really nice.”

And I wasn’t just being polite. I guess in my head I’d been expecting your “typical” male Hollywood star’s luxury apartment, very austere and cold with a lot of black and white and grey, and sleek-lined mid-century modern-type furniture - a place that looked straight out of a design magazine, but didn’t offer one much welcome or comfort.

But Bucky’s place was warm and inviting, with dark wood tables and furnishings, a beautiful dark green carpet, a huge dark brown leather sofa, and paintings all over the walls, except for the one with the giant TV across from the couch. And books everywhere - a huge bookcase in the corner and books stacked on both the huge antique coffee table and end tables. Far from being austere, it looked eclectic and welcoming, and reminded me a bit of my own loft, though somewhat more luxurious and expensive.

The man himself smiled.

“Thanks,” he said. “My job is pretty demanding - OK, it’s *really* demanding - and I need a place to retreat from all the bullshit and replenish, you know?”

“I do know,” I said, my lips curling into an impish smile. “I’m in the same business, remember?”

He snorted and said sarcastically, “Oh yeah.” Then he paused as if deciding what to say next.

He seemed to come to a decision, stepped forward, and said softly, “Ari, can I kiss you? Please? I’ve been dying to kiss you for so long...” He looked up at the ceiling, swallowed, and looked back at me. Another massive jolt in my stomach as I nodded and tilted my head up, lips already parted in anticipation.

As he leaned toward me, he cupped my face in his hands, his long fingers curling along my scalp behind my ears. I looked as long as I could into his eyes until he was too close and he was too beautiful and it was overwhelming, so I fluttered my eyelids shut just as his lips fastened on mine.

The kiss was very, very gentle and very, very sweet. His mouth was warm and firm and clearly capable of more intensity, but right now he was keeping it light. It was a gesture of respect mingled with a hint of the passion that lay underneath. Our first kiss lasted a good minute, then he pulled back slightly and gave me a short kiss, then a longer one again. His hands carded through my hair and then roamed down my neck to my shoulders. He tasted of bourbon and tequila with a hint of tobacco - an hours-ago cigarette before we’d met at the bar, perhaps? - which made me wonder if he were an occasional smoker, like myself.

At this point he broke away, looking at me in wonder, the emotion in his eyes undeniable.

“Ari,” he whispered again, and pulled me toward him for the sweetest kiss yet. I could have lived in that kiss forever - our lips and bodies pressed together, the spark rising in both of us, but with the firm knowledge that there was no hurry. There was plenty of time for us to get to know one another, to learn each other’s movements, to connect. My stomach continued to flutter but now my chest grew warm and it felt like my heart would soon start to emit light through my ribs.

After a few minutes, we both pulled away to look at each other in awe, and then Bucky’s eyes darkened. He leaned over and the passion broke through to the surface. His lips landed hard on mine, then as I gasped he licked into my mouth with the filthiest kiss I’d ever experienced. As I opened my mouth to his I made an involuntary squeaking noise in the back of my throat.

Suddenly we both couldn’t get enough. We pulled our jackets off as we clumsily maneuvered over to the sofa and collapsed on it, never breaking lip contact. His arms were fully around me now and we kissed like we wanted to devour each other, all the banter and fraught interactions and emotions of the past two-and-a-half months poured into this moment. My hands roamed over his chest, shoulders, and back like I needed to touch him everywhere, right this instant, or die.

After an indefinite period of time (five minutes? Fifteen? Ten years?) I realized that I was pushing him over to lie down on the couch...and he was letting me push him. This vulnerability grabbed me by the throat and I moaned and started to unbutton his shirt, while his hands slipped under my sweater to grip my bare back.

As we thrashed around getting Bucky’s shirt off, our entangled arms hit the side table and brought a cascade of books down on our heads. No one was hurt, but we stopped kissing and looked at each other, stunned, for an instant before breaking into unstoppable laughter. We laughed until we cried, holding each other on the couch, surrounded by upended books.

The mood wasn’t broken but the initial tension was. By unspoken mutual agreement we sat up, wiping our eyes on our sleeves as the residual laughs tumbled out. Bucky finished taking off his button-down, passed it one more time over his face, and then threw it on the floor behind the coffee table.

This gave me the opportunity to look at his bare torso, which I’d never seen. (OK, scratch that, I’d seen it during that one scene in Picnic but that was professional nudity, so to speak, and not for me.) His workouts had certainly been paying off - my eyes roamed over the shoulders, biceps, pecs, and abs on display - but the powers-that-be hadn’t made him into a superhero quite yet, as his chest had a light covering of hair covering his pecs and running down to his navel to disappear under his waistband. I smiled and thought to myself, Hallelujah! I love me some good chest hair.

I reached out timidly toward his chest, thought better of it, then lightly touched his left shoulder and bicep, where a pinkish-white scar ran jaggedly down his arm.

“Is this OK?” I said, still somewhat breathless from our recent exertions.

“Of course,” he murmured, and reached up with his other hand to touch my hair.

“What happened?” I asked, feeling the mended tissue under my fingertips as if I could discern the origin of the scar if I tried hard enough.

“Freak accident when I was ten,” he said matter-of-factly. “I was climbing the fire escape of an old building near some train tracks and when the train whistle sounded behind me, I startled and fell off the fire escape onto an old piece of scrap metal. Ripped a big gash.”

“Wow, that’s so scary,” I said. I could almost see the vignette in my mind: the young boy, the whistle, the fall, the blood.

“My parents freaked. But it could’ve been a lot worse,” he said, grabbing my left hand and kissing up my arm. I shivered both in delight and in sympathy.

“No kidding,” I said. I moved my right hand up over his shoulder and then, somehow emboldened, really did touch his chest, running my hand over his nipple. His breath caught and his eyes darkened and he reached out for me and again licked into my mouth. We kissed hungrily for several minutes, and again I realized that I was pushing him down onto the couch. As I did so, my hands circled his ribs and then one reached down to grab his leg...only instead I grabbed his ass.

Bucky gasped as he felt my hand on his ass (which felt mighty fine, let me tell you), but then he involuntarily twitched his knee up right into my side. I stopped kissing him and let out an awkward “Oof.”

He looked abject and said, “Sorry! Sorry! I’m so sorry, _mo bhanrion,_ are you okay?” I nodded and said I was much more surprised than hurt. He smiled and began lazily kissing me again, sucking my bottom lip into his mouth. I moaned but then suddenly realized (as one sometimes does) that I had to pee like a racehorse and had in fact been holding it for some time.

In my defense, my attention had been otherwise occupied.

Reluctantly I pulled back from Bucky’s kisses and said, “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I have to pee so bad. Give me a few minutes? I’ll be right back.”

He laughed and pointed to a dark hallway off the living room. “First door on the right,” he said. “And here I thought you could hold your liquor,” he teased.

“I can hold my liquor,” I said loftily, flipping my hair back from my face. “But all the water Joaquin gave me is a different story.”

Bucky leaned forward and kissed me sweetly, then again as I made to try to get up. Finally he let me stand up, then lay back on the sofa in a provocative pose and said, “Don’t be too long, my girl.”

I caught my breath at all that pulchritude, nicely arranged in front of me like the world’s most sumptuous banquet.

“Of course not,” I said, trying to get hold of myself, and turned to head to the john before I could be further distracted.

As it turned out, I took rather longer in the bathroom than I expected. Emptying my bladder (sweet relief!) took a couple of minutes, then I washed my hands and ran my damp fingers through my hair. I looked at myself in the mirror for a minute - the flush on my cheeks sat atop a pallor that was more extreme than my typical fairness, and the circles under my eyes were even darker than usual. I was exhausted, but exhilarated - and determined to stay with Bucky and take this evening through to...whatever conclusion it had in store for us. I exited the bathroom, walked down the hall, and was about to say something sexy to Bucky when I stopped in my tracks.

Bucky Barnes was fast asleep, his magnificent body splayed out on the couch and his beautiful mouth smiling peacefully under closed eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The directions in this chapter are correct, but it’s not entirely clear whether Bucky’s address is an actual residence or not, so all of that section is imaginary. 
> 
> “Mo chroi,” Google tells me, is “my darling” or “my heart.”


	7. Burn Like the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Merde merde merde,” I said, looking him full in the eye. “It’s an amazing production, and you are going to be great.” 
> 
> “Yeah, I think you’re right,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I’m bummed about not getting the extra fire, but you did everything you could.”
> 
> “Oh yeah, I know,” I said, trying not to feel too downhearted at the disappointment on his face. I had gotten his hopes up with the last-minute visit to FD headquarters in Brooklyn that morning, but Hank had steadfastly refused to increase permission for extra capacity, reminding me of the new rules and the pressure he was under. I’d come out of the meeting with Hank and returned to the theater that afternoon to tell Bucky the bad news. He’d taken it well, all things considered, and I’d left him to work out a final solution for the dragons with Bruce. 
> 
> “It’ll be OK,” he said, taking another deep breath and nailing on a game face. He looked so valiant in the face of this setback that I made an impulsive, and probably completely foolhardy, decision right there and then. 
> 
> “Yeah, it’ll be more than OK,” I said. “You’ll see. Things will work out great, I promise.”

And then it was opening night, the Friday of Memorial Day weekend. Twenty minutes before curtain, I stood backstage in my usual spot, in the wings at the front of stage left. I wore black jeans, black boots with a rubber sole for quiet walking, and a black tunic. Scott the lighting designer and the costume designer were sitting out in the audience, but I preferred to stay backstage while the play was live, in case something happened and I was needed. I knew Bruce was back here too, in his usual spot upstage left.

The audience noise out front was loud and excited - there was a sellout crowd in the theater, and I knew it wasn’t just kids and families, but any number of theater and Hollywood heavy-hitters, socialites, and the cream of the New York business world. And Pepper Potts and Tony Stark. I knew I shouldn’t be nervous, but my stomach churned and I could barely keep my breathing calm...

...OK, hold on. I’m getting ahead of myself, as usual. I’d better take a step back and continue where I left off, that crazy Thursday when everything came apart, spectacularly, and came back together, just as spectacularly.

When I came out of Bucky’s bathroom that night and found him passed out on his couch, the spark of disappointment in my chest turned to sweetness almost immediately. For a minute or two I stood there, watching his chest rise and fall, taking in the angles and planes of his face and the curve of his lips as he slept. At this point, I realized that he wasn’t going to wake up and that I was also bone-tired.

Quietly as I could, I crept over to the couch, pulled the navy cashmere throw off the back, and unfolded it to drape over him. It wasn’t quite big enough to cover his entire sleeping form (what the fuck, Bucky? why is your nap blanket so short?) so I tucked it around his bare (and ridiculously impressive) upper half, and then planted the tiniest of kisses on his cheek. He smiled in his sleep and whispered, “Ari” before turning over and clutching the blanket to his chest.

I grabbed my jacket and glided out the door. On the elevator, I took out my phone and left Bucky a quick text.

**Galanis Designs**

Hey Sleeping Beauty, thanks for an incredible evening. Text me when you wake up so I know you’re ok. See you tomorrow at the theater. 😘

I got home as fast as I could, threw off my clothes, and brushed my teeth. Then I suddenly remembered that I owed an email to Carol Danvers, so I opened my laptop and sent her a short message that I’d spoken to Barnes and worked things out, and I’d see her at the theater in the morning. After that I all but tumbled into bed. I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow and dreamt, blessedly, of nothing. When I woke up the next morning, completely refreshed and (hallelujah!) not hungover, I had a reply to my text.

**James Barnes**

Darling Ari, sorry I passed out on you, can’t wait to see you at the theater, meet you at Waypoint Cafe at 9.30? x

I smiled at this and felt a little pang in my chest at the “x” - now that I’d gotten a taste of those x’s, I was ravenous for more.

**Galanis Designs**

Absolutely, see you there at 9.30, I’ll take a large chai latte and more than one x pls

**James Barnes**

Anything for you my queen

I know, I know, it was pretty sickening but we were at that very early stage in a relationship when you can’t stop smiling or thinking about the other person. I stopped myself from sending another text and trailed dreamily off to the shower.

I was running a few minutes late and when I got to Waypoint, Bucky was already there. His hair was half-up, half-down and he wore a moto jacket and a green woven scarf with a hint of striped shirt peaking out from underneath, but somehow he managed to avoid looking like a hipster doofus. He hadn’t seen me yet, and I had a split-second panic moment that he had forgotten all about last night and didn’t really have feelings for me. Unreasonable, yes, but hearts are funny that way.

I took a deep breath and walked in, and then he saw me. His eyes lit up and his mouth stretched into an angelic smile. As I got close to his table, he stood up, stepped forward, and pulled me into a warm hug, then kissed me thoroughly. He tasted of toothpaste and that vetiver/earth/cut grass smell enveloped me. Normally I’m not a huge fan of PDA but this level of welcome was immensely gratifying and soothed away all my worries. His first words helped too.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he said, looking me over with those ridiculous blue eyes and running his fingers through my hair.

“Hey babe,” I said with a cheeky grin, cupping his cheek in my hand. “Lookin’ sharp today, my friend. Your hair is fabulous.”

“And you are beautiful as always.” We sat down at the table. “Sorry again for passing out last night - yesterday was a...challenging day, although I think yours was tougher.”

“That’s OK, sleepyhead,” I said as he took my hand and caressed it. “I got some really choice beefcake pics of you asleep on the couch and sold them to TMZ when I got home.”

He laughed out loud and passed me a large cup. “Your chai latte, _mo chroi_ ,” he said. “I hope you got top dollar for those photos.”

“Not bad,” I shrugged. “Paid for the beach house I was gonna rent on Martha’s Vineyard this summer. Thanks for the latte.” He laughed.

“As long as I can come with you to the Vineyard. And thank YOU for being so amazing,” he said, turning serious. “I still can’t believe how much I lucked out last night after being such a dickhead. But I’m gonna make that all up to you today. D’you want anything to eat?”

I shook my head, in the middle of a sip of latte. “Thanks, though,” I said. “Maybe lunch later...?”

“Of course lunch later,” he said. “You ready to go? We should get to the theater soon so we can meet up with Carol.” He stood up and held out his hand. We walked over to Grand Street, holding hands and sipping our drinks and arguing about who had better hair - each of us thought the other did. I know, I know, it was super nauseating.

*****

We got to the theater, having agreed on the subway that we’d keep our new relationship secret at work - at least for the present. We had a good meeting with Carol, who was both very impressive and very approachable, and who was also pleased that we’d worked things out.

Then Bucky called the cast and crew together and gave a heartfelt public apology to me in front of everyone, praising my artistic vision and professionalism and promising he’d never behave that way again. I stood to the side, trying very hard not to grin too much or let my feelings spill over. At the end of the speech he shook my hand amid clapping from the team, and as our eyes met he gave me the ghost of a wink.

For the next two weeks we saw as much of each other as we could outside the theater, but it wasn’t much. The countdown to opening night was on and there was just too much to do. We managed to snag a quiet dinner or two together on breaks from the production, and I was there to comfort him after FaceTimes with his parents about his mother’s condition and treatment.

But mostly we saw each other at Lincoln Center, where we kept things strictly business-like except for a lot of secret smiles. We met for coffee downtown almost every day, then rode the subway together holding hands before disembarking and becoming “colleagues” again.

One night we got out of the theater a little earlier than usual and went back to his place, where we made out for half an hour before we both fell asleep on the couch, the brutal rehearsal schedule catching up with us. I woke up at 5 AM and snuck out to get back to my place and get a little more sleep, leaving him a note covered in hearts. As I said before, it was all super nauseating.

The Monday before opening night we had a late start at the theater so I was hanging out at home taking it easy, taking care of emails and scheduling new furniture orders with while GBBO played on my TV in the background. I got a call for a special delivery package in the lobby and buzzed the guy up to get it. It was a long flat box, addressed to Ari Osgood but with no return address. Big letters on the side of the box spelled out ROOQ Fine Art and Framing - but I hadn’t bought any art or gotten anything framed. I opened it...and gasped.

It was the framed certificate, swearing that I was the best production designer in all the land, etc. etc., that I had dictated to Bucky at Antler 10 days earlier. The lettering was done in beautiful calligraphy and two cunning dragons framed the writing, one at the top left, the other at bottom right. They were the colors of the dragons in the fairy tale. At the bottom of the declaration, Bucky had signed his name and added a tiny “x” next to the signature.

I felt a swelling in my chest and my eyes prickled with tears. What had started as a joke over drinks had become a real declaration of respect and, honestly, a work of art. I would have to figure out where to hang it. For the moment I put it on a side table and reached for my phone to FaceTime Bucky.

He wasn’t available, so I texted him a photo of the framed picture with _I LOVE IT!! Thank you, sweetheart_ 😍. When we met at the theater later, I looked carefully around to make sure no one was around and gave him a huge hug.

“I can’t believe it! It’s amazing,” I said, pulling back from our hug with my arms on his shoulders. He grinned, looked around again - we were still alone - and leaned in to give me a sweet kiss.

“I got an artist friend to do it for me,” he said, flashing me his million-dollar smile. “Sorry I missed your call earlier - I had to FaceTime my agent.”

“No worries,” I said, reluctantly letting go of him as we heard footsteps nearby. It was Bruce.

“Did you get the new fire permit?” Bruce said, smiling at me and clapping Bucky on the back.

“Yeah, it came late Friday,” I said, and pulled it out of my bag. “They’ve expanded the capacity and range for both fire events, but not to the level we wanted,” I said ruefully. Bruce took the paper and sighed. “Oh man,” he said, and looked at Bucky. “We can enhance this with some lighting and other effects like dry ice, but it still won’t get to the level of fire we want.”

Bucky ran his fingers through his hair and exhaled. I could tell he was disappointed, but he was working very hard not to vent his emotions on us. My heart turned over with gratitude and I managed not to flash lovey-dovey eyes at him in front of Bruce.

“Yeah, let’s do that with the lighting,” he said. “It doesn’t look like we have a lot of options.”

“Let me talk to my buddy at the FD,” I said quickly. “I might be able to get him to boost the capacity for us, as long as we can demonstrate we’re following the safety protocols.”

“Let’s go make sure those are all in place and documented, and go look at how the increased heat will work on the fly grid,” Bruce said, walking away. “C’mon, Ari.” I walked away but looked back at Bucky and smiled, who made a blew a kiss at me.

We checked the fly grid and put together our safety requirements for increasing the fire levels for the dragons, but then my luck ran out. I went to see my buddy Hank at the fire department the next day to make our case, but he shook his head. Even with the improved protocols, he said, he couldn’t give permission for more flames - there’d been a minor accident on a Broadway show a few weeks earlier and they were under strict orders not to increase capacity for the time being.

“Honestly,” he said, looking at me pointedly, “You’re lucky you got that smaller increase last week.” I sighed and went back to the theater to tell Bruce and Bucky. Bucky took it well, all things considered, but I could tell he was disappointed.

The dress rehearsals a few days later on the Thursday went pretty well, with some acting and technical glitches that Bucky went over with us that night following the performance. He and I took a Lyft downtown together after we finished up, around midnight.

“I thought it went pretty well in the second run-through tonight,” I said, leaning my head against his shoulder and stretching out my legs in the back of the car. “How ‘bout you?”

“Yeah, it was better than this afternoon,” Bucky said, kissing the top of my head. “Did you get the chance to see the final confrontation scene from the audience?”

“Yeah,” I said, putting my hand on his knee. He grabbed my hand. “The fire from the dragons is pretty good, and Bruce’s other effects really make it look better. You and Nat and Stephen did a great job too, and the costumes look terrific. I think the kids are going to love it.”

“I hope so,” sighed Bucky, “And that’s the most important thing, of course, but the other big question is, will Marvel love it? They’re sending a whole group tomorrow night for the opening and they’ll expect impressive things.”

“But it’s a stage production,” I said, lifting my head and looking at him incredulously. “There’s no way we can replicate in a theater what they do on a soundstage with tons of money, CGI, and no New York fire department breathing down their necks. They need to back off.”

Bucky looked at me and smiled. “You are adorable when you’re feisty,” he said and leaned in for a luxurious kiss. “We’ll see about the Marvel folks,” he said, banging my hand gently against his knee. “But there’s nothing we can do about that now.”

“Let me try one more time with Hank at the FD tomorrow,” I said in a determined voice. “If he says a final no, that’s fine - at least I tried ‘til the end.” Bucky chuckled.

“You are even more adorable when you’re stubborn,” he said, leaning his head against mine. “You don’t have to do that. It’s OK.”

“But I can do it - and I want to,” I said. “I’ll go first thing in the morning.”

The driver let us off at my loft. We stood in the empty lobby and kissed goodnight...delicate kisses that stayed sweet but held the promise of more intense heat within them. Bucky’s hands started to roam down my back as he stammered out some words between kisses.

“I want you...” kiss “...so much...” kiss “...I can’t wait...” kiss “...to get you in my bed...” kiss “...or yours if you prefer. Let’s go now...oh shit I don’t have a condom...”

I chuckled and said, “I’ve got a Mirena and I’m clean.” He nodded. “I’m clean, too.” 

“So that’s all settled,” I continued. As we kept kissing, an image entered into my head of his mouth on my clit and his cock filling me up and my pussy started to get wet...

...and then suddenly we yawned at the same time and the mood was broken. We laughed and laughed, then kissed again, but with less heat. I looked up at him and ran my fingers through his hair.

“We should get some rest, Bucky, especially you,” I said. “Tomorrow is such a big day for you and you need your sleep.”

“But...” Bucky started to say and I silenced him with another kiss.

“Tomorrow night,” I said, bringing my hand down to his neck. “After the premiere party is over...and we don’t have call on Saturday until five...this is so important for you, sweetheart, and I want to make sure everything is right for it. We can celebrate afterward.”

Bucky started to protest but yawned again in the middle of it and I raised my eyebrows at him.

“OK, OK,” he said, grabbing my hand and kissing it. “You win. But tomorrow night...” he stepped back and pointed his finger at me.

“Yes,” I said, pointing back at him. He smiled and said, “You are the best. See you at Waypoint in the morning?”

“Nah, I’ll head over to the fire department in Brooklyn first thing and meet you at the theater later...hopefully with good news,” I said lightly, stepping back and hitting the elevator button. He laughed.

“Ever the optimist,” he said. “Goodnight, darling Ari. Sweet dreams.”

“You too, Bucky,” I said and blew him a kiss as he disappeared out of the building and headed north. I went upstairs to my loft and got ready for bed. As I got under the covers I realized I was still wet and briefly considered taking care of myself, but fell asleep so quickly that it never happened.

*****

So there I was the next night, standing backstage twenty minutes before curtain dressed in black and nervous as all hell. The crowd out front was noisy and excited, and I knew among them sat Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Maria Hill, and a few movie executives who could make or break Bucky’s big career move. As my stomach churned, I brought my left thumb and forefinger together and said a few quiet words to myself to calm down.

Suddenly someone came up behind me and laid their hand on my shoulder, and I jumped. It was Bucky, in full costume and makeup as the dull-witted boy. He wore a dark matted wig over his actual hair, a wig that would magically come off during his transformation at the end of the show. The rags he wore, too, would disappear at the end to become a stunning black and silver outfit that revealed his true self, a powerful enchanter.

“Sorry to scare you,” Bucky whispered in my ear. “Just wanted to say hello - I have to go talk to Darcy and then get in place for the opening scene.” He laid the ghost of kiss on my neck and I shivered. I turned to him with a smile.

“Merde merde merde,” I said, looking him full in the eye. “It’s an amazing production, and you are going to be great.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I’m bummed about not getting the extra fire, but you did everything you could.”

“Oh yeah, I know,” I said, trying not to feel too downhearted at the disappointment on his face. I had gotten his hopes up with the last-minute visit to FD headquarters in Brooklyn that morning, but Hank had steadfastly refused to increase permission for extra capacity, reminding me of the new rules and the pressure he was under. I’d come out of the meeting with Hank and returned to the theater that afternoon to tell Bucky the bad news. He’d taken it well, all things considered, and I’d left him to work out a final solution for the dragons with Bruce.

“It’ll be OK,” he said, taking another deep breath and nailing on a game face. He looked so valiant in the face of this setback that I made an impulsive, and probably completely foolhardy, decision right there and then.

“Yeah, it’ll be more than OK,” I said. “You’ll see. Things will work out great, I promise.”

He smiled at me and gave me a quick hug. “Thanks for everything. I’ll see you on the other side.” His eyes wandered somewhere above my head and he headed off toward Darcy, who was waving to him from the other side of the stage. I wasn’t hurt by his vagueness - I’d seen it in far too many actors who were preparing for a performance.

But now that I’d made my foolhardy decision, I had to prepare for my performance too. I stepped back further into the wings, closed my eyes, and took a few deep breaths. My forehead tingled and I tilted my head back to get ready.

“Are you OK?” It was Romanov, coming into the wing to get ready for her first entrance, looking incredibly beautiful in her gold princess dress and long red wig. She looked concerned as she scanned my face. I grinned at her in a friendly way (I hoped) and answered, “Oh yeah. Just first-night jitters. It’ll all be good.” She smiled back, hesitated, and gave me a quick hug. I tried to hide my surprise, as we hadn’t been all that close during rehearsals.

“Merde!” I said. “You’ll be awesome!” Then I moved back a bit further into the wing to give her some space.

A few minutes later, the curtain was parted and Pepper Potts, looking incredibly gorgeous in a royal blue sequined Naeem Khan column gown, went out onstage. She welcomed the audience to the theater festival on behalf of the Stark Foundation, and hoped they’d see all the performances that were taking place in and around Lincoln Center over the next two weeks. She called out the other corporate and entertainment sponsors of the festival, and announced that thanks to an extra gift from Tony Stark, all profits from the festival’s ticket sales would be donated to various homeless shelters and the Mount Sinai Children’s Hospital (hearty applause).

“And now,” she said, finishing up, “we are proud to present - The Dragon Princess.”

The audience applauded as she disappeared behind the curtain. Fortunately once she was backstage, she walked stage right toward Darcy, to be let back out into the audience. I needed all my focus right now, and couldn’t get distracted by a glamorous CEO.

The music started up (Bucky had gotten Sufjan Stevens to compose incidental music and Josh Bell was conducting the chamber orchestra, this production really was packed with famous people) and the play began. Rhodey and May walked onstage for the prologue, and the curtain opened - a good number of people oohed over the scenery and their costumes. So far, so good.

For those of you who don’t remember this fairy tale, the first fire scene comes early on in the first act, when the dragon attacks the castle and the toddler princess subdues it and they become fast friends. We hadn’t been able to get full capacity for the dragon’s fire, but Bruce and I had rigged some other effects to make it look more impressive.

Well, we were getting full capacity now. As we readied for the cue of the dragon swooping down from the fly rigging, I brought my thumb and forefinger together, and said a few words. My hand glowed blue as I stood in the wings and I brought it up over my head, praying at the same time that Romanov (who still stood in front of me, waiting for her entrance) wouldn’t turn around.

The dragon swooped in from stage right and the stagehands implemented the fire and sound effects of the dragon roaring. My blue hand flashed briefly, and the fire intensified to the level we had originally wanted, swirling around and covering most of the overhead part of the stage.

The audience gasped and spontaneous applause broke out. It was a stunning effect. As the “princess” (my favorite Japanese-style puppet, remember?) commanded the dragon to land and it stopped breathing fire and “flew” down to land on the stage, I also lowered my hand and released my circle.

The play continued. I took a deep breath and put my head down, then looked back up. Across the stage, I saw Bucky in the center wings, still looking up, dumbfounded, his mouth open, as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just seen. Then he shook his head, and got back into actor headspace. I shrank back into the wings, looking around, satisfied that no one had seen my little stunt.

The next fire effect doesn’t occur until right near the end of the play, so I had some time to relax and watch the show, though I kept a running list of notes in my head about set issues. That first fire effect had really energized the atmosphere and the actors were firing (sorry) on all cylinders. Rhodey and May did a great job as the king and queen, Natasha as the princess was fueling the dreams of dozens of six-year-old girls (and some boys) in the audience, and Stephen was appropriately menacing as the sorcerer.

But it was Bucky who had my full attention - and not just because we were dating and I was sweet on him. His performance was mesmerizing. His transformation into the dull-witted boy was utter and complete, and it went beyond the makeup and rags. His face, always so beautiful in real life, now looked younger, blanker, less defined. His purposeful walk had become an aimless shuffle. Somehow even his jawline, usually on par with models, was blurred, and no intelligence shown in his crystal blue eyes. Natasha was doing an amazing job in her alternate role as the princess enchanted into a crone - her walk reminded me of my 85-year-old grandfather - but my gaze kept returning to Bucky. I no longer recognized the man I’d kissed just before the show started.

_How is he doing this?_ I thought to myself, amazed, and thought that it was going to be hard for the Marvel group not to be impressed. If he could do this onstage, what couldn’t he do in front of a movie camera? This was some seriously good acting.

I’d hidden myself in a back room during intermission to avoid dealing with anyone and save my strength for the end of the play. Again I was standing in the front wing stage left, this time with no one nearby. In my black outfit I disappeared against the curtains. As before, I took several deep breaths and felt my forehead tingle.

In the big climax scene, the princess/crone and the dull-witted boy (also under an enchantment) confront the sorcerer to get back all the magic he’s stolen. He gets the upper hand and prepares to kill the two humans when the two dragons break their enchantments and destroy him. This scene had to be very tightly choreographed out of necessity, what with three actors and two very large dragon props moving near each other in a limited space. Bruce and I had worked closely with Bucky, Nat, Stephen, and the stagehands to make it impressive while also keeping it safe - so I had to be extremely careful with any extra fire added to the mix, even if it wasn’t real.

As the scene escalated, I brought my thumb and forefinger together and my hand turned blue and flashed. Then I moved my hand in the pattern of the dragons’ movement and their fire intensified. Bucky and Natasha jumped back as choreographed, and the “fire” swirled around Stephen as he screamed and dropped through the trap door to be “destroyed.”

The gasp from the audience was even louder than at the beginning and a number of people clapped and yelled. I could hear a child crying in the audience because it looked so real and impressive (sorry, kid). I brought down my hand and drew my arm across my forehead. The extra fire wasn’t hot (because it was an illusion) but I my face was clammy and could feel the energy ebbing from my body.

The final scene was the princess and the dull-witted boy, now restored to their real selves, returning to the princess’s kingdom and her parents, and the celebration of their wedding. Bucky and Natasha came onstage for the wedding scene, looking out-of-this-world beautiful in head-to-toe black with silver accents (Bucky) and full white that actually had a bit of light green in it (Natasha).

After the wedding, “fireworks” go off to end the play. I was exhausted at this point, but figured in for a penny, in for a pound. As the stage fireworks went off (nice job, Bruce), I brought my fingers together again to amplify the effect and propel some of the pyrotechnics off the stage a little ways into the audience.

“OOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH,” the audience said as one. The closing music swelled and the curtain closed. I separated my fingers and brought my arm down as the crowd roared and cheered and their applause seemed to beat against the stage in its enthusiasm.

Then all of a sudden my vision went grey and I seemed to hear the applause from a long way off. I could just see the cast taking its bows as my legs buckled and I grabbed the curtain but still landed with a thud on my knees.

“Ari,” said a voice from seemingly a long way off. And then it repeated, closer. “Ari.”

I could smell fresh air and vetiver and wet pavement after a storm, and I thought I caught a faint green glow out of the corner of my eye. My vision cleared and I could see Bucky, on his knees in front of me in the wings with his hand on the side of my face, looking gorgeous in his black costume but also very concerned. The curtain was closed and the applause had ended, and the noise of a departing audience and an excited cast and crew was all around us. I smiled at him.

“Bucky,” I said. He smiled back.

“ _Mo bhanrion_ , are you OK?” he said in my ear so I could hear him over the noise. I nodded my head and took stock. I felt refreshed, like I’d just woken up from a perfectly timed nap.

“Yes, I’m fine,” I said, then remembered what had happened and got up abruptly. Bucky stood with me, putting out his arms to steady my shoulders.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he said, “no need to get a head rush.”

I looked around and said in a worried voice, “No one saw me fall, did they?”

“No, no one.” Bucky shook his head. “Everyone was focused on the applause and the bows. But when the curtain closed I looked over and saw you kneeling and slipped over to see you.” He caressed my cheek and tipped up my chin with his hand. “Are you sure you’re OK?”

I smiled at him. “Very sure. It came off pretty well, huh?” His face broke out in an excited smile.

“So well!” he said. “I couldn’t believe how well it went. And the dragons...” he stopped and shook his head. “I didn’t think it would be that impressive,” he said honestly, “but it was amazing.”

“Well, Bruce is a genius,” I said, grinning mischievously at him. “I told you he could make it work.”

“Yes, _Bruce_ is a genius,” Bucky said dryly, kissing the top of my head. “Please tell me you’re going to the opening night party that Tony and Pepper are throwing.”

“Yes,” I said, luxuriating in his closeness and his touch, especially since everyone else was distracted and paying no attention to us. I was also relieved that I’d successfully managed to divert his attention from my well-being. “I need to freshen up and change, but I’ll be there.”

“Me too,” he said, running his fingers through his hair. “I left my days of going to cast parties in full makeup back in high school.” I laughed.

“See you there?” I said, and he nodded. “And Bucky—“ as he was about to go. “Thanks for coming to see me just now.” His smile was gentle and he looked around to make sure we were alone, then leaned in and kissed me sweetly on the mouth. “Of course,” he said. “See you soon.”

*****

The opening night party was in full swing when I arrived an hour later. It was happening across the plaza from the theater in the Grand Promenade at Geffen Hall. I’d taken a quick shower in an empty dressing room and put on my party ensemble, a dark green sleeveless DVF silk jumpsuit with black rhinestone-encrusted Louboutins (both a splurge at Saks a couple of years ago when I’d started getting invited to these kinds of parties). I put up the front part of my hair, redid my makeup, and added my diamond studs and dragon earrings, their emerald eyes echoing the color of my jumpsuit.

When I’d reached into the pocket of my suit bag for the earrings, I’d found a smallish box with “Badler” on the cover. Inside was a thick yellow gold cuff bracelet, its clasp a gold salamander with a sizable emerald eye. A card inside the box said _Congratulations on a stunning production and thank you for everything. Your B x_.

I stood there with my mouth open for a full minute before putting it on. It complemented my outfit really well. I couldn’t believe Bucky had found something so perfect, and perfectly me. I’d gotten some nice gifts from directors in the past, but nothing like this. Of course, I’d never dated my director before either.

The party was crowded with bigwigs and socialites, and I looked around hastily for someone I knew. In the center of everything was Pepper in her blue dress, laughing and talking with what had to be the Marvel crew and a few rich old men, Bucky at her side looking ridiculously hot in an all-black tux that echoed his final outfit in the play. His hair flowed in waves down to his shoulders. He was listening politely to some movie studio suit when he saw me.

His eyes flashed as he looked me up and down, and his smile was dazzling as I brought my left arm up to my hair to show him the cuff. He gestured for me to come over and join them, then more insistently when I hesitated. I walked slowly over to the group, and Bucky opened the circle to let me in.

“...and this,” he announced, “is Ari Osgood, our brilliant production designer...” Pepper interrupted him immediately and leaned over to shake my hand.

“Ari!” she said excitedly. “Those dragons were amazing! The whole set was wonderful, but I can’t get over the dragons. Carol and Bucky were right about you - you are brilliant.” As soon as I got Pepper’s stamp of approval, the old rich dudes and most of the Marvel crew looked at me with more respect. A senior studio suit leaned over and held out his hand. As I shook it, he said, “Jim Paxton, great to meet you, Ari. We’re always looking for talent at Marvel. Can I call you next week so we can talk more?”

“Sure,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant, like this kind of thing happened to me every day. “I don’t have a card with me, but Carol or Bucky can get you my contact info.” Jim grinned.

“Excellent,” he said. I smiled and reached up to tuck my hair behind my ear. A flash of blonde caught the corner of my eye and I turned to see Nicole, the Marvel exec who’d been at the theater that terrible day a couple of weeks ago. She was looking at me dubiously. Bucky caught the look and leaned in, putting his hand on my shoulder.

“Ari, this is Nicole Barton, also from Marvel,” he said, smiling and turning on the Barnes charm. “Nicole, this is Ari. I think you saw her in the theater a few weeks ago while we were rehearsing.”

“Oh yes,” Nicole said politely but unenthusiastically, raising her eyebrows at Bucky and looking me up and down with a glance that barely improved on her expression of contempt from before. It was plain as day, though, that Jim Paxton was her boss and she wasn’t going to get away with being rude in the present situation. Her eye caught my bracelet.

“What an...interesting bracelet,” she said, lip curling. _Oh lady_ , I thought, _I’m not gonna play this game with you_.

“Thanks,” I said, smiling widely and sincerely. “My boyfriend gave it to me. He’s really wonderful.” I felt Bucky’s hand move stealthily down from my shoulder and give my lower back a squeeze.

“Very nice,” she said faintly. Oh man, I was already over this woman, and annoyed that she had such influence over Bucky’s career. Plus I wanted to talk to my production buddies. I caught sight of Bruce’s head behind Nicole.

“Hey, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go talk with our special effects manager,” I said. “Very nice to meet you, Nicole.” I held out my hand, daring her to be rude to me. She hesitated briefly, then gave me the dreaded dead fish handshake. I stopped myself from rolling my eyes, flashed a fake smile at her and a real one at Bucky, and headed off in Bruce’s direction, grabbing a glass of champagne as I went.

Bruce smiled as he saw me. He looked excited but bewildered.

“That was amazing!” he said, hugging me. “What happened? I thought we didn’t get the extra capacity in the permit.”

“We didn’t,” I said smoothly, “but your solution really worked to enhance everything. Great job!”

He looked confused. “But...” I kissed his cheek and cut him off. “You’re brilliant, Bruce. Go get a drink.” He wandered off, forehead still wrinkled in thought. I knew I was going to have to come up with some sort of plausible explanation for him at some point, but right now I just didn’t have the brain power. I took a sip of my champagne.

Darcy came up to me then, looking beautiful in a dark purple corset dress with a full skirt that perfectly set off her curves.

“Hey gorgeous,” I said, leaning down to hug her. “Great job tonight.”

“Oh my god, you too!” she said, eyes a bit glassy as she sipped her champagne. I could tell this wasn’t her first glass of the evening. “I can’t believe everything went so well. Those dragons! Fuck me, they were amazing. Well, here’s to us, genius women of the theater, hell yeah!” Our glasses clinked.

For the next 15 or 20 minutes I talked excitedly with various members of the cast and crew, drinking my champagne and feeling my spirits rise. It was a beautiful evening and I looked forward to meeting up with Bucky later. I’d lost track of him over the last few minutes, but assumed he was still schmoozing.

Then for a few minutes I was standing by myself. It was past midnight and I wondered when Bucky and I could meet up and head downtown. As I finished my drink, taking advantage of a lull in my socializing, a familiar voice sounded in my ear.

“Ari,” it said urgently. “I know who you are. _I know *what* you are_.”

It was Bucky’s voice. I turned around in surprise, expecting to see Bucky right behind me. But he was ten feet across the room, listening to some rich donor, but staring at me intently, mouth closed, with an enigmatic smile. And then I realized that he’d said those words into my mind.

Oh holy fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kept the details of the fire effects purposely vague since I am not a Theater Person. The main headquarters for the NYFD is in Brooklyn, though. 
> 
> Waypoint, ROOQ, and Badler are real places, as is Martha’s Vineyard.


	8. We’re Floating as One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He took a deep breath and looked up over my head. And then that fucker gave me a dazzling smile, leaned forward and gave me the sweetest kiss I’d ever received. 
> 
> “I’m scared too,” he said, pressing his forehead against mine. “My feelings for you are so intense...it’s all I can do to keep from ravishing you in public when we’re together. It’s overwhelming.” He reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear.
> 
> “But listen, mo bhanrion,” he continued. “I don’t want to let my life be dictated by fear. Our ancestors lived in fear, because they saw what ordinary humans did to people like us that they didn’t understand. But I don’t want to live in fear. I want to live in my feelings for you...with you...even if it’s too much. We might hurt each other...we probably will hurt each other...I’ve already hurt you. 
> 
> “And,” he said, running his hand down my neck and moving his head across my cheek, “it might not work out. But then again, it might work out beyond anything we’ve imagined so far. And in my dreams,” he hissed, biting my neck and making my breath catch, “We don’t destroy each other. We lift each other up and fit together and...we make each other whole.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sex ahoy!

_I know who you are._

_I know *what* you are._

Bucky Barnes had said these words to me in the middle of the opening night party of the New York Children’s Theater Festival at Lincoln Center, after a triumphant first performance of our production of The Dragon Princess.

But he’d said them from across the room, mouth closed, into my mind. Holy shit.

I froze, but before I could freak out, he continued his mental text message.

_I know what you are, because it’s what I am too. Meet me in twenty minutes on the Amsterdam Street side? I’ll have a Lyft for us._

I managed not to drop my jaw in the middle of the party, and looked at him. He looked at me intently, but also with a measure of nervousness and pleading. And there was something else kindled in his eyes that burned down deep, but my brain shied away from the enormity of that emotion.

I smiled at him and nodded, and he smiled back and turned away to talk to yet another old rich donor. The wheels in my brain were turning furiously and I was having trouble processing what Bucky had just told me. Scratch that, what he had just “told” me. He had talked to me in my mind! He was like me! I could hardly believe it, and yet...

...and yet. In some ways the fact that he was like me (we never used the “w-word” in my family, too cliched, too ridiculous, too much baggage) made perfect sense, and suddenly a lot of pieces fell into place in my head. It explained Bucky’s success with the reluctant donors for that off-Broadway play years before...and his incredible ability to inhabit his characters...and his mother, Winifred Early of the infamous Earlys of Ireland...and that delayed elevator at the Stark Foundation meeting back in March...and his sensitivity to my strengthening spell that night he was so wasted...and his quick recovery from that same drunkenness...and the green light I’d seen tonight as he put his hand to my temple...how had I not recognized that as a refreshment spell?

“Primo job, Osgood.” Tony Stark materialized at my side and startled me out of my reverie. He looked good in a classic tux, but was clearly miserable in this kind of setting and was drinking straight scotch instead of champagne. I was grappling with one of the most stunning reveals of my life and not really up for small talk, but steeled myself to make an effort with Stark.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark,” I said, extending my hand. “Thanks for all your support for the festival.”

“Tony, please,” he protested, shaking my hand. “Mr. Stark was my father, blah blah blah, all that bullshit. And this isn’t my shindig, it’s Pep’s, but it’s always fun to see the shows.”

I smiled. “Glad you liked it...Tony.”

“Those dragons, man,” Tony continued, with a slight shake of the head. “How’d you do it? All the effects were just amazing...some real _Reign of Fire_ -Smaug-level shit.”

My smile broadened as I stayed calm and said, “Bruce and I would be happy to welcome you backstage sometime and show you how it’s done.”

“Awesome,” he said, “because I totally want to see how the magic is made, Peterina Jackson.” At his mention of magic I had to make sure I could maintain my poker face.

“No magic, Tony,” I said, more lightheartedly than I felt. “Just chemicals and lighting. And large mechanical dragon figurines.”

“You’re the expert,” he shrugged, and then looked over my shoulder. “Oh Christ,” he said, rolling his eyes. “My Much Better Half beckons. Time to go shoot the shit with the suits.” And he strolled off without saying goodbye.

I looked after him and let out a sigh. So many people were interested in my dragons. But I put that out of my mind for the present - now it was time to exit the party, grab my stuff, and meet my boyfriend to talk about the bombshell he’d just dropped on me.

*****

It was a beautiful night. I walked out of the Amsterdam Street side of Lincoln Center and stopped short, catching my breath at the picture in front of me. Bucky stood in front of a sleek black Bentley, still in his tux, his hair falling a bit in his face, a crooked smile below those incredible eyes. He saw me and those eyes lit up. I walked up and stood in front of him.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey,” he said back, pulling me to him, our faces inches apart. He hesitated, suddenly looking a little unsure of himself. I smiled and leaned in, giving him what I hoped was a very decisive and very encouraging kiss. He smiled against my lips and his arms tightened around me. I turned my head and looked at the luxury sedan.

“Awfully nice Lyft,” I commented, teasing. He chuckled and looked at the ground.

“It’s a Stark Industries car,” he said. “Pepper ordered it for me during the gala. She’s pretty stoked about how things went tonight.” He opened the door for me, took my bags, and ushered me into the backseat. The leather seats were ridiculously soft and, unlike most regular Bentleys, this one had a separation window between us and the driver in the front.

Bucky slid in after me and immediately snuggled up close, grabbing my hand. The driver pulled away from the curb and turned on 65th toward Broadway.

“You must have a thousand questions,” Bucky said in my ear, keeping quiet even though the driver couldn’t hear us through the partition. I turned to him and said, “Not really.”

He gave me a quizzical look. “Not really?”

“No,” I admitted. “Actually, it answers a lot of questions for me, about things I’d experienced with you, even years ago during that donor meeting about _Picnic_.” He smiled. “My first question is - can you really read my mind? You can speak into it, but if you can see my thoughts, that’s gonna be tough to put up with.”

He chuckled softly and said, “No, it only works one way. I can say short things into your head, but I can’t hear what you’re thinking.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” I said dryly. “I’d hate to have to break up with you so early in our relationship.” He smiled, squeezed my hand, and kissed my forehead.

“Yeah, it’s a good thing,” he admitted. “I’d hate to be able to read people’s thoughts.”

“Same,” I said, and then after a pause: “How did you know about me? It was the dragon fire tonight, wasn’t it?”

“That was just the final confirmation of my suspicions,” Bucky said. “I had a lot of strong reactions to being around you, a lot of tingling in my forehead...”

“...I felt that too!” I said, interrupting him.

“...and then I was pretty sure when you managed to get me home that night after drunken karaoke,” he continued. “Strengthening spell, right?” I nodded. “I gave you a refreshing spell that night, which actually helped me sober up. I gave you another one tonight.”

“The green light!” I said. “I saw it out of the corner of my eye.”

“Your big spells take a lot out of you, huh?” he said, lifting my hand to his lips and kissing it. I hesitated, then nodded. “Understandable. Mine do too. Tonight must have been really exhausting.” I nodded again.

“Anyway, I hope this doesn’t affect our relationship,” he said with a concerned look on his face. “I mean, I know it affects our relationship, but I’m really so psyched to know we’re alike - it makes being honest and my true self that much easier with you. It’s been a challenge with past partners.” I couldn’t stop nodding.

“I know,” I said. “I’ve always felt like I’ve had to hide part of me with my boyfriends and girlfriends...but my family always hammered it into my head that we have to keep it all secret. Even now I’m a little freaked out that we’re talking about this out loud.”

“Yeah, my mom swore me to secrecy too. My dad didn’t even know. Doesn’t even know,” Bucky said. My eyebrows raised.

“Wow, that is hardcore,” I said. “My mom was clued in just before my parents got married, and she’s more strict than my dad is about telling people. She also has this idea that we shouldn’t partner with others like us, that it’s too dangerous or something.” I shrugged and grimaced.

“My mom never said that,” he said. “I can see why your mother might think that way, but I hope you don’t.” He kissed my hand again. “Think about how well we fit together, how good we are together, what we could do together.”

“I know,” I said. “And it’s exciting. But it’s also scary. I’ve been nervous about us and the intensity of the two of us...especially after that terrible fight in the theater. Even before that I had worries...and crazy dreams about us.”

“That day was awful...I was awful,” Bucky admitted. “But I’ve tried to make up for it, and I still think we can be so amazing as a couple. Can I show you? Please, _mo chroi_?”

The car pulled up in front of my loft. I looked out the window, and then looked at Bucky. His eyes held that intent/pleading/Something Deeper look he’d given me earlier at the gala. I took a deep breath, smiled at him, and said, “Come with me.” His eyes flashed with gratitude and longing, and he escorted me out of the car and through the door into the lobby of my building.

*****

For whatever reason, during the few weeks we’d been dating, Bucky had never been to my place. We’d always met at his apartment or out in the city. As we got on the elevator, he pulled me to him, kissing me gently.

“Looking forward to seeing your place,” he said, brushing his hand across my cheek. I smiled.

“It’s...not quite as nice as yours,” I said wryly.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he said, as the corner of his mouth tipped up.

We walked into my loft and Bucky stood for a minute at the doorway. “Wow,” he said, staring at the huge bank of windows along the east side of the main living space. “I bet the light in here is phenomenal.”

“Yes,” I said, walking into the apartment and dropping my stuff on my dragon chair. “But they aren’t the most wind-resistant in the winter. Sadly.” I strode ahead of him into the room and then turned when he didn’t follow. He was looking at my dragon chair.

“You made this, didn’t you” he said, a look of wonder on his face.

“Yes, right after I signed on to the production,” I said, taking off my jacket.

“It’s wonderful...you have such a gift,” he said softly, running his hands over the carved woodwork. Then he looked up at me, a light in his eyes.

“And by the way, I haven’t had the chance to tell you how gorgeous you look tonight,” he said, coming up to me and taking me by the shoulders to look me up and down. “I was so proud to be your boyfriend, even though we haven’t told anyone yet. And how you handled Nicole! That was amazing.” His hands stroked up and down my bare arms. I shivered.

“Well, she’s really quite something,” I said dryly. His hand hit my new bracelet and I raised my arm and said, “Thank you for this, it’s so beautiful. I love it. I’ve never gotten such a perfect gift before.” He leaned in and kissed me, a bit longer than usual, on the cheek.

“You’re welcome,” he said softly near my ear. “It took a bit of finding but when I did I just knew. Kind of like you...when I saw you in March at the Stark Foundation that was it for me. I was gone for you. I just knew.”

“It took me a little longer,” I said, my breath hitching as his lips trailed down my neck. My stomach clenched and my limbs grew molten. I ran my hand through his hair and held his head to keep his mouth against my skin. “But...ah!...after that lunch at Old John’s I was smitten... though I tried so hard to stifle it because I thought you were still with Natasha...hah...and after our big fight...”

“I still have a lot to make up for after that day,” he whispered, nipping at my collarbone. “I’ll continue atoning tonight.” He lifted his head from my neck and moved his face toward mine, stopping a couple of inches away, asking my wordless permission to keep going. In response I grabbed the back of his head and closed the final distance between us.

The kiss reminded me of our first, in his apartment after drunken karaoke, but instead of being sweet it was urgent from the start. His lips fastened onto mine and almost immediately his tongue brushed against my bottom lip. I moaned and he took that opportunity to lick into my mouth, wrapping his arms around me as he kissed me hungrily. I kissed him back with just as much passion, feeling my blood rise as the heat of our bodies met.

As we kissed I pushed his tux jacket off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. I took off his tie and started to unbutton his black dress shirt...and, as before, he let me take charge, holding his arms out to make it easier for me to undress him. He wore no undershirt and soon his bare torso was in full view. His vulnerability clawed at my heart as much as it made me even hornier. After I’d gotten his shirt off, I held his head as I tried to devour him through his mouth. He groaned and wrapped his arms around my waist.

“Ari...” he whispered between kisses. “Ari...”

“Bucky,” I whispered back, and slid my hands down his face to his chest. I still could hardly believe that all this lay open to me. My hands wandered over his pecs and obliques and circled to his back. My light scratches over his back were rewarded with a groan against my mouth. That groan went straight to my crotch and I could feel myself getting wet. The heat kept rising in me and I knew he was feeling the same as his hardness pressed against my leg...

...and then suddenly the image of my dream came unbidden to my head. Our passion in the dream had been so intense...but it was too intense and we were destroying each other, engulfed in flames...and pulled back, panting, my hands planted loosely on his hips.

“Ari, sweetheart, what is it?” Bucky said to me in a voice of mixed worry and frustration. His chest was heaving and his beautiful face was a mask of concern. “Are we going too fast?”

I paused for a moment. “It’s just...” I gasped, trying to catch my breath. “I’m scared. I have such strong feelings for you...what if they’re too strong? What if we hurt each other? What if it doesn’t work out? In my dreams...we destroy each other...we go up in flames just like the sorcerer in the fight with the dragons...”

He took a deep breath and looked up over my head. And then that fucker gave me a dazzling smile, leaned forward and gave me the sweetest kiss I’d ever received.

“I’m scared too,” he said, pressing his forehead against mine. “My feelings for you are so intense...it’s all I can do to keep from ravishing you in public when we’re together. It’s overwhelming.” He reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear.

“But listen, _mo bhanrion,_ ” he continued. “I don’t want to let my life be dictated by fear. Our ancestors lived in fear, because they saw what ordinary humans did to people like us that they didn’t understand. But I don’t want to live in fear. I want to live in my feelings for you...with you...even if it’s too much. We might hurt each other...we probably will hurt each other...I’ve already hurt you.

“And,” he said, running his hand down my neck and moving his head across my cheek, “it might not work out. But then again, it might work out beyond anything we’ve imagined so far. And in my dreams,” he hissed, biting my neck and making my breath catch, “We don’t destroy each other. We lift each other up and fit together and...we make each other whole.”

With Bucky’s words, it was as if a shadow was lifted from my heart. It could have been a spell, or it could have been just the raw truth of what he said; it didn’t matter. I felt the fear and worry drain from my body and saw what he envisioned - the positive side of the passion and intensity. I saw the possibilities of us, not just what we could do together professionally (though that was exciting) but what our relationship could look like. It was intoxicating. I lifted his head from my neck to make him look me in the eye.

“Show me,” I whispered. “Show me how we fit together.”

At this, his mouth opened in a groan and his lips crashed into mine and his hands snaked around my shoulders to unzip my jumpsuit. It fell in a puddle on the floor and I stepped out of it to face him in a black satin bra, matching underwear and my Louboutins.

“Hey wait a sec, I thought you liked that jumpsuit,” I teased, lifting up my arms in a mock-shrug. Bucky’s pupils blew and he grabbed me to him.

“I like you even better out of it,” he growled, sinking his mouth into my neck. I gasped and luxuriated in his bite and the heat of his chest pressing against mine. He kissed down my collarbone and licked the skin along the edge of my bra, moving the fabric very carefully out of the way with his teeth until his mouth could reach my nipple. My body went liquid and my head filled with static. I unhooked my bra, toed off my shoes, and grabbed his hand, leading him into my bedroom.

*****

In the bedroom, Bucky immediately took charge. He wouldn’t let me turn on the light, but pushed me gently down onto the bed and covered me with his body. The light came faintly into the room from the main living area. He kissed my lips, moved down my neck to lavish further attention on my breasts, then laid a trail of wet kisses down my torso to my belly button, making me shiver. As he reached the top of my underwear, he looked up at me with a question in his eyes, waiting for my OK. My breath caught at the sight of that face between my thighs.

“Bucky, please...” I moaned, grabbing the sheets in anticipation. He smiled as he grabbed my underwear with his teeth and gently pulled down. He got them off and then took a minute to stand up and take off his tux pants and his black boxer briefs. His thighs rippled and I could see his impressive erection as he crawled back between my legs. My brain shorted out at the thought of seeing (and feeling) that cock soon, but Bucky was having none of that right now. He pulled my knees apart and took a moment to look at my pussy, opened up for him.

“So beautiful,” he breathed, and leaned in to lick all the way up my slit. I moaned with pleasure and angled my hips upward. His tongue thrust inside me a few times and then moved up to play around my clit. He knew exactly what to do and I could feel myself edging closer...

“Oh God, Bucky,” I gasped, feeling the wetness leak out of me and the warmth of my cunt spread upward into my stomach.

“It’s OK, baby,” Bucky murmured against my clit, swirling his tongue around it, “let go and come for me.” As if in encouragement he circled a finger around my pussy and slipped it inside. A minute later he added a second, crooking both upward as his mouth covered my clit. This sent me over the edge and I shouted aloud as I came.

As I came down from my orgasm, Bucky turned his head to kiss my inner thigh. I pulled at his head and he kissed his way back up my body to my lips, where I could taste myself on his mouth.

“Feeling good?” he said with a lazy smile, caressing my nipple. Something sparked in me and I lifted my head to nip his collarbone.

“Yes, very good, and I’ll feel even better when you’re inside me,” I hissed. His smile disappeared and his eyes darkened as he lined himself up. Then he hesitated. I pulled his lips onto mine as a final indication of permission and then he started to push himself into me.

He took his time filling me up, going little by little until I was beside myself with want. It was a good thing, though, that he took his time - he was (and is) thick and the stretch was intense (it had been a while for me). By the time his hips touched mine it felt amazing instead of too much. My eyes were closed and I felt Bucky’s hair brush my face as he breathed hard into my neck. He stopped for a minute at the top and I savored the feeling of being so full.

Then he started to move, slowly at first, angling his hips so his shaft brushed over my clit as he thrust inward. I moaned as I felt electricity move across and under my skin. He started to move faster and then...

“Ari,” he whispered. “Ari, look at me.”

I opened my eyes to see his face above mine, panting, lips smiling, eyes cloudy with lust but also flashing with that look I’d seen so often before. It was...was it...

“Bucky,” I whispered back, breathing hard.

“I love you,” he said, a little louder. “God I love you so much.”

“I love you,” I responded, looking him straight in the eye.

All of a sudden my forehead tingled and my chest felt warm and, as at Bucky’s apartment the night of our drunken karaoke session, it felt like light was emitting through my ribs.

Because light *was* emitting through my ribs. A reddish glow penetrated my chest and diffused out toward Bucky. His rhythm stuttered and his mouth dropped open.

“Ari?” he said, a look of amazement crossing his face. I had a moment of panic and then put all fear aside. Whatever this was, it was good, I knew it. I smiled at him.

“It’s OK,” I said, and touched his left pec as I thrust my hips upward. He closed his eyes and then they flew open again as the same red light started to flow out of his chest.

“Is that...what...are you...” he stuttered, a look of wonder on his face. His brow wrinkled and I knew his forehead was tingling like mine was.

“I’m not doing this,” I responded breathily, folding my arms around his shoulders. “But it’s OK. Let it happen. Don’t stop.” He nodded, shuddered, and kept driving into me. The reddish light was now pouring out of us both and lit up the room around us. I could feel myself moving again toward orgasm and murmured, “So close” as I wrapped my legs around his hips and felt the warmth of the light suffuse both our bodies.

“Uh huh,” he grunted and moved his left hand down between us to stroke my clit. I gasped and looked at his face and then after a minute I was falling over the edge and seeing stars, breathless, too dazed to shout. My orgasm tightened my cunt around Bucky and seconds later he tensed and I could feel him expand and release inside me.

During that time it felt like we were floating inside that red light. It was as if there was no bed, no loft, no roof, just Bucky and I, suspended in space, just us joined together and no one else in the world. As he came, he looked me in the face and with a jolt our third eyes opened. For a moment we were entirely open to each other and seemed to see and understand each other completely.

I’ll never forget that moment, when we not only realized the depth and extent of our love but the idea that we were somehow bound together by something greater than ourselves. I held onto him tighter. The red light engulfed us and flashed brighter and I was dazzled and closed my eyes...

...and the next thing I knew we were lying on my bed in the dark, still joined together. The red light had vanished. Bucky had collapsed on top of me, but now he lifted himself up to look at my face. For a minute neither of us spoke, luxuriating in the tremors that were now dying down, leaving contentment and satiation behind.

“That was...” he started, and then stopped, shook his head, and kissed me.

“I know,” I said, looking at him, my eyes shiny. I was the happiest I’d ever been but tears were leaking out from under my eyelids.

“You sure that wasn’t you?” he said, stroking my hair and thumbing away the tears.

“Pretty sure,” I said dryly, turning my head to kiss his hand. “My spells don’t usually start...or end...that way.”

“Huh,” he said. “Then what...?”

“I think it was us,” I said tentatively, my legs still wrapped around his hips. “I think we created that, somehow.”

“It was amazing,” he said fervently. “I’ve never...”

“Me neither,” I said.

“Has your third eye ever opened before?” he asked, kissing my neck.

“Yes, but only once, when I was little,” I murmured. “You?”

“Same,” he said, and turned his attention to kissing me more thoroughly. Then he moved his head back and looked at me, somewhat awestruck.

“I saw you,” he said. “I mean, like, I *really* saw you.”

“I saw you too,” I said, carding my fingers through his hair. “I know you.” He turned his head to kiss my palm.

“You do,” he whispered. “I’m yours. And you’re mine.”

“Yours,” I whispered back, moving my hand down to his shoulder. I unwrapped my legs from his back and winced.

“You OK?” He looked into my face with concern.

“Yeah,” I smiled at him. “Tight hips. Acrobatic sex. You do the math.” He grinned and kissed my temple, then carefully pulled out, rolled off me, and pulled me to him so we were face to face.

“You know,” I said, grabbing his hand and interlacing our fingers. “I told you earlier that my mom used to tell me never to get involved with someone like me. Like my dad. Like my brothers. But she never told me why...I always assumed it was because there’d be too much power in one place and attract too much attention. But maybe...”

“...maybe because we’d unintentionally create amazing-ass shit like that? And experience life-changing revelations?” Bucky said, kissing my hand. I shivered.

“Yeah,” I said. “But I’m not going to let that keep me from being with you. No fear, that’s what we said earlier, right?” He nodded. “OK then. I love you and I want to be with you, and I’m not going to let my mother - who might have no idea what the hell she’s talking about, mind you, my dad would never confirm it - dictate my life.”

Bucky smiled and his eyes lit up and he hugged me to him.

“God, I love you,” he said in my ear. “I can hardly imagine letting you out of my sight, much less letting you go. And I’m totally not letting you go because of something your mother said once.” He fastened his lips on mine.

“That’s settled then,” I said once he’d pulled back. “I love you too,” I said softly. “I can’t wait to see what life with you is like. It certainly won’t be boring. I mean, we have seven more performances of The Dragon Princess, who knows what could happen?” His head tilted back as he laughed.

“That’s true,” he chuckled. “Maybe the dragons will come to life and fly around the theater.”

“That seems...unlikely, but who knows?” I responded. Then I yawned and he followed suit.

He turned over on his back and I snuggled into his armpit, inhaling the scents of vetiver and sex and sweat. I felt like I was floating effortlessly on a warm sea. I closed my eyes and reveled in the feeling in my chest - the light might have disappeared but the warmth was still there, diffused within me and ready to kindle again at the right moment. I could feel Bucky’s body heat radiating at my side and wondered again at our journey to this moment.

Bucky said nothing and his breathing got soft and regular. After a few minutes I wondered if he had fallen asleep. I wouldn’t have blamed him at all - it had been an amazing, overwhelming, day and we were both tired. I started to think about sleep as well.

And then...

“Hey love,” came a quiet if mischievous voice from the other pillow.

“Yeah.”

“Wanna see if we can make that light again?”

I opened my eyes and turned my head to see him grinning at me wickedly in the dark. I grinned back.

“It’s worth a try.”


	9. Floating With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And last but certainly not least,” Bucky said, picking up his glass. “I’d like to thank Ari Osgood, our production designer. Without her genius and vision, there would have been no Dragon Princess. I know we had our differences early on, but she turned me around to her way of thinking...”
> 
> “Yeah, thank GOD!” yelled Sam, sitting next to Nat. Bucky grinned, pointed at him, and continued. 
> 
> “I’m so proud to have worked with her on this show, and,” he put his other arm around me and pulled me close, “even happier and prouder about this.” 
> 
> He leaned over and kissed me with a flourish, nipping at my bottom lip, then kissing me again. The party erupted in cheers and shouts. I could hear Darcy above the crowd yelling “GET IT, GIRL!” As we pulled apart, I caught sight of Nat’s face - she lifted her cocktail glass and raised her eyebrows at me, smirking.

The Dragon Princess opening night was a night to remember. On that night Bucky and I had created magic onstage (literally), and then again later in my bedroom, when we had sex and our hearts and third eyes opened to each other (again, literally) in a moment neither of us had anticipated or voluntarily created. It was as if the universe were telling us, rather emphatically, that our union was good and right and true. It sounds unbelievably corny, I know, but I took it as a sign and it put all my fears to rest. 

Even later that night, Bucky reached for me again and we tried to recreate that magic. This time I sat on his face and then slithered down between his legs and sucked his dick until he was begging me to fuck him. So I rode him, very slowly, and made him look me in the face. We tried to recreate the magic from the first time, but it didn’t work.

“Is your forehead tingling?” I whispered as I held his wrists and canted my hips to slide inch by inch down his cock.

“No,” he said, trying to sound disappointed through his heavy breathing. I let go of his hands and sat up a little.

“Oh well,” I panted. “Guess we’ll just have to settle for plain old amazing sex this time.”

He grinned wickedly and quick as a wink his left hand snaked between us to stroke the side of my clit. I moaned and as my eyes fluttered closed, my bones going liquid as the voltage built up under my skin. This time he came first, shuddering and pulsing into me, and I followed close behind.

I collapsed on the bed next to him and he pulled me to him and kissed me, licking my bottom lip. I could taste myself on his mouth.

He smiled and yawned and because yawns are contagious, I yawned too. We turned onto our backs, burrowed into the sheets, and fell asleep quickly, holding hands. We didn’t wake up until noon the next day.

*****

I woke up late the next day to see Bucky lying next to me on his back, mouth open and drooling into my pillow. I grinned to myself. I got up quietly, peed and brushed my teeth, and then slithered back into bed to wake up my boyfriend with a hearty slap on the ass. In retaliation, Bucky grabbed my wrists and wrestled me down to the bed. He snaked down between my legs to lick me until I came and then fucked into me as I whispered dirty encouragement in his ear. (As punishments go, it was pretty spectacular.)

Then we got up and showered, and he cooked me breakfast with the last three eggs I had in the house. We agreed that we’d continue to keep our relationship secret from the cast and crew at Lincoln Center until the end of the run the following weekend. We also agreed that we’d wait ‘til we got to the theater later that day to decide what to do about continuing the extra fire effects for the dragons.

We got to the theater late that afternoon for the second performance of The Dragon Princess, and the first aftereffect of the magic the night before became immediately apparent. We walked backstage and Bruce came up to talk to us about a few technical adjustments for the show. Through his collared shirt a pale green light filtered out of his chest, but even without that obvious sign I knew instinctively that he was like me and Bucky. I managed not to drop my jaw or stare and got through the discussion.

When Bruce walked away, Bucky turned to me and whispered urgently, “Did you see...!”

“Yes!” I whispered back. “He’s like us. I...kind of knew it anyway, even without the light?” Bucky nodded.

At that moment we saw Natasha across the stage, talking to Darcy. She turned as she saw us, waved, and went back to their conversation. But I’d seen the circle of red light, tinged with black, in the middle of her forehead. Bucky and I turned to each other, open-mouthed. He pulled me back into the wings and we hid in a nearby supply closet.

“Natasha too!” he said, his face a mask of wonder. “I had no idea...and we dated for two years.”

“Well, as we said last night, it’s not something we go around sharing,” I pointed out. “Even with loved ones.”

“But now we know...and we can see...” he said incoherently.

“Yeah,” I said, trying to wrap my head around this new development.

“But we couldn’t before...that’s new...”

“Yeah,” I said. “This could be...because of last night?” I lowered my voice, even though we were alone in a closet. “Our third eyes did open, remember.”

“True,” he said. “That’s crazy, that we can see...and we know...”

“It means we should be careful,” I said soberly, grabbing his hand. “We don’t want to expose anyone else or put them at risk.” He nodded.

“On the other hand,” I said thoughtfully, “this could be how I explain the effects in last night’s performance to Bruce. He was so confused at the gala. He’d understand then.”

“But that’s risky for you,” Bucky objected. “I don’t want to put you in any danger.” I grinned, grabbed his hand, and kissed him. “My handsome enchanter,” I said. “So protective.”

“Well, I’ve got something precious to protect,” he said in a low, growly voice that made my heart skitter.

“Sweetheart,” I said, and kissed him again. “But I don’t think it’s risky. And once Bruce knows - and knows I know about him, mind you - he can help come up with technical cover for the extra fire effects. And possibly,” I said, already anticipating my exhaustion at the end of the show, “help me with them.”

Bucky still looked dubious. But he sighed and said, “OK. Do you want me there when you talk to him?”

“No,” I said decisively. It’ll be too overwhelming for him and might freak him out. And there’s no need to expose both of us.” Bucky grabbed my shoulders.

“Alright,” he said. “But be careful.” Then he gave me a spine-melting kiss. “Tell me how things go. I love you.”

“I love you.” I opened the closet door, looked around, and headed off to find Bruce.

The conversation with Bruce was surprisingly easy. I told him I had a question about the effects, and took him to a quiet corner away from the crew, who were setting the stage for the performance.

“Bruce,” I said quietly. “About the fire effects last night.”

“Oh yeah,” he whispered back. “That was you, wasn’t it? You’re...different...like me...aren’t you.” This last sentence was not a question.

For a moment I was speechless and stood gaping at him.

“Uh, yes,” I said, taking a deep breath.

“I figured it out early this morning,” he said. “It was the only explanation that made sense.” He smiled at me and continued. “We need to set the technical specs to align with the new effects levels, in case anyone asks or gets suspicious. We don’t want the fire department or the theater management sniffing around for any reason. Let’s do that now.”

We moved into the main office where all the permits were filed, and he pulled out the relevant papers. He moved his left hand over them and it briefly glowed green as the specs changed themselves on the pages. I shielded him from the door just in case anyone was walking by, my brain still racing to process all the new information it was receiving. Once the papers had been re-filed, he turned to me.

“It’s a pretty big spell, isn’t it. The dragons. A lot for one person.” he muttered. I nodded briefly. “I can help you so it’s not so tiring. Let’s sync up using stage cues and a pair of headsets tuned to our own private frequency. We’ll stay in our usual spots backstage so no one suspects anything.”

I nodded again, still too overwhelmed by recent events to say more than, “OK.” He made to leave the office.

“Bruce,” I called to him, and he turned around.

“Thank you. I really appreciate this,” I said, pouring all the gratitude I felt into those words. He smiled shyly.

“Gotta stick together and support each other,” he said. “See you later.”

When I told Bucky 15 minutes later, he was as stunned as I was, but he had to respect the elegance of our solution. He was still worried about the impact of the spells on me, even with Bruce’s assistance, but he sounded relieved that I wouldn’t be as exhausted.

“I’ll still be ready at the end of the show with that refreshing spell,” he whispered. His eyes flashed and it was obvious he wanted to kiss me, but by then there were too many other people around. We said hurried goodbyes so he could go talk to the cast about some last-minute notes and get in costume.

Ten minutes before the performance started, there I was, in the wings at front stage left as before, all in black, taking deep breaths and getting ready for the show. I could hear the excited crowd out in the audience - the reviews from last night had been very positive and it was clear people were ready for a spectacle. Well, we’d give them a spectacle. I touched my earpiece to make sure it was working and aligned up with Bruce.

A minute later Natasha came up next to me, looking gorgeous as usual in her full princess gown and wig. I could no longer see the red/black light on her forehead, but that didn’t matter now when I knew who she was. We smiled at each other.

“Ready to do it all again?” I said. She chuckled softly.

Ready,” she said. She hesitated for a moment, and then enfolded me in a big hug, much warmer and friendlier than our quick hug the night before.

“Take care of yourself tonight,” she murmured in my ear. “Don’t exhaust yourself or put yourself at risk...or in any danger of discovery. Take care of yourself...for you and for James.” My forehead tingled and my back felt warm where her hands were touching me.

She pulled back a bit and looked me in the face, eyes dancing. “I’m so happy for you two,” she said, and kissed me on the cheek, laughing at my dumbfounded expression. I had no time to process this conversation, though, because Darcy called for places and the overture to the show began. So I stepped back into the wings to get ready for the show.

*****

The rest of the run went off very smoothly; Bruce and I were a good team in creating the extra effects and continuing to wow our audiences. Although Bruce’s support went a long way in keeping me from overtaxing myself by the end of the show, Bucky still gave me a refreshing spell after every performance. Mindful of Nat’s whispered words, I let him...and then usually let him pull me into our favorite local supply closet afterward to make out and burn off the excess stage adrenaline.

True to his word, Tony Stark came backstage unannounced after a matinee to “see how the magic was done.” Bruce and I showed him the technical effects and let him get up close and personal with the dragon figurines on the fly loft. He inspected everything and asked us dozens of questions, and then we all met up with Bucky onstage. Tony shook his head.

“Barnes, it’s a mystery,” he said, jerking his head upward toward the fly loft. “These two claim they’ve showed me everything, but I still can’t figure out how the effects are so good.”

“That’s because they’re the best in the business,” Bucky said with a grin, eyes flashing. I got a whiff of fresh sea breeze and had to hide a smile. “They’re both amazingly talented. Couldn’t do it without them.”

“Yeah, yeah, enough with the snow job, Buckerino,” Tony muttered, but he was smiling too. He started to leave and as he did so, he tossed over his shoulder, “By the way, Pep was talking to Jim Paxton yesterday. Think you’ll be hearing from him soon.”

Bucky and I exchanged excited glances, and my heart beat faster. Tony hadn’t been specific, but I took it as a good sign that Jim Paxton (and not that horrible Nicole) would be in touch. Later that night as I snuggled into his armpit in bed after he’d nailed me doggy-style on the couch in his living room, I told him my thoughts. He refused to read anything into it, but his post-coital smile was sunny and hopeful, and not just because of the sex.

And it wasn’t misguided. Jim called Bucky the next day, and told him to come out to LA to talk to Marvel in June...about confirming the contract for the superhero role. They were canceling the retest, and Jim would send Bucky a draft contract document to preview with his agent before the in-person meeting, when they’d hammer out all the details. When Bucky told me, stopping by my loft in the afternoon before the evening performance, his face looked joyous but disbelieving. I hugged him so hard I thought he’d burst, and said, “Congratulations, my love.”

“I can’t believe it,” he said, grinning like a drunk.

“I can,” I said seriously, turning his face to mine. “You are that good, sweetheart. You’re an amazing actor. You have everything it takes to open a big movie. I know it...and now they know it, too.” I pulled him to me and scratched my nails down his back, whereupon he hissed, gave me the world’s filthiest kiss, and proceeded to lick me senseless as I sat in the dragon chair and then bang me on the carpet.

*****

After the closing performance in early June, Bucky, Sam, Pepper, and Maria Hill threw a party for the cast and crew at The Smith across the street from Lincoln Center. The food, drink, and speeches were flowing freely as we sat at a number of tables in the private dining room. I wasn’t sitting with Bucky - he was sitting with the actors and I’d landed at the “techie” table with Bruce, Darcy, and Scott Lang. But we were meeting at his place later in the evening, so I wasn’t fussed. And the techies were my people, so socializing with them wasn’t exactly a hardship.

Pepper, Sam, and Maria made short but suitably eloquent speeches thanking everyone for their efforts to the make the production a success.

Last of all, Bucky stood up. He started by reminding everyone why he’d picked The Dragon Princess for the festival, and singling out various members of the cast and crew for their hard work and dedication.

I could smell the fresh sea air from two tables away and smirked as I watched him in action.Bruce caught my glance and he briefly rolled his eyes to heaven and I realized that he, like me, knew what was happening. I grimaced and then winked back. Nat was facing away from me and I wondered what her expression looked like at that point.

Bucky said a few appreciative words about every major player in the production. Except me. To be perfectly honest, my ego was a bit disappointed, but I told myself he would thank me in a much more satisfying and less publicly appropriate way at his apartment later, so it was fine. We had talked about letting everyone know about our relationship after the show was over, but had never specified how that would happen. I just assumed we’d keep it casual and organic, telling individuals as it came up.

And then Bucky called my name and asked me to come over to his table.

_What the fuck._

Head spinning, I stood up and approached his table. I was sure my face was bright red. I took some deep breaths and brought my left thumb and forefinger together to calm myself.

“And last but certainly not least,” Bucky said, picking up his glass. “I’d like to thank Ari Osgood, our production designer. Without her genius and vision, there would have been no Dragon Princess. I know we had our differences early on, but she turned me around to her way of thinking...”

“Yeah, thank GOD!” yelled Sam, sitting next to Nat. Bucky grinned, pointed at him, and continued.

“I’m so proud to have worked with her on this show, and,” he put his other arm around me and pulled me close, “even happier and prouder about this.”

He leaned over and kissed me with a flourish, nipping at my bottom lip, then kissing me again. The party erupted in cheers and shouts. I could hear Darcy above the crowd yelling “GET IT, GIRL!” As we pulled apart, I caught sight of Nat’s face - she lifted her cocktail glass and raised her eyebrows at me, smirking.

“Anyway,” said Bucky, raising his glass, elated, his lips still covered in my red lipstick. “To Ari.”

“TO ARI!!” the room shouted, and toasted me. I was suddenly overcome and tears flowed out of my eyes. I only bit back a sob by taking a huge breath and bringing my left thumb and forefinger together behind my back. My hand might have been slightly blue.

“You OK, love?” Bucky murmured in my ear, pulling me to him with an arm around my waist. “You’re not gonna set the place on fire right now, are ya?”

“Oh fuck you, Barnes,” I hissed back, taking his drink and draining it. “Don’t piss all over my moment.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he smiled, and kissed me again.

*****

Later that night as he lay on top of me in his bed in the afterglow, panting, he said, “I hope my surprise was OK earlier.”

“Of course, it was amazing,” I said, breathing heavily and turning his face to mine. “Why?”

“Well, we hadn’t talked about the details of how we’d tell people about being together, and I wasn’t sure you’d be down for something so public.” He kissed my lips sweetly. “I wanted to tell everyone at the same time, but also make it special and memorable.”

“Of course you did, you’re a fucking actor,” I said, rolling my eyes. He pulsed his softening dick inside me in retaliation and I laughed out loud. He rolled off me and pulled me to face him.

“But really,” I continued. “It was great. Thank you for all the praise, and for being my partner.” His face turned serious.

“You mean that? About being partners?” he said.

“Yeah, you know, partners in love, all that,” I responded, making a sentimental googly face.

“What about partners in work, too?” he said, his face uncertain.

“In work...what do you mean?”

“I mean that I’ve been talking with my agent and Jim Paxton about the Marvel movie over the past week, and your name has come up quite a bit. He’s really excited to bring you on to work on the film. Would you come to LA with me next week to talk with him?” He carded his fingers through my hair. “I really want to keep working with you, not just keep screwing your brains out until you come apart every night.”

“Although,” he continued, grinning and bringing his hand down from my hair to stroke my shoulder and collarbone, “that part is pretty fucking aces.”

I grinned, but then pretended to think about it.

“Well, I dunno...I mean, it wouldn’t be too terrible, working on a big Hollywood film like I’ve always dreamed of...alongside my smoking hot movie star boyfriend. That would not be too bad.”

He moved his hand from my shoulder down my back and slapped my ass, then edged it between us.

“Not too bad,” he growled into my mouth, sliding his fingers into my wet slit. “I’ll show you not too bad.”

“Yeah,” I gasped, opening my legs and digging my nails into his shoulder. “I think you will.”


	10. Epilogue 1: Love Has Set Our Hearts Aflame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “A toast!” said Sam exuberantly, lifting his wine glass. “Here’s to The Dragon Princess, and to Tony Stark, and to you three lovely people for making it happen.” We’d just gotten the bottle and were waiting for our main courses at One If By Land in the West Village. 
> 
> The Dragon Princess film would again star Bucky and Nat, and many of the original stage cast were reprising their roles, including Stephen Strange. I was going to be the principal production designer. I couldn’t wait to work with the old group again. 
> 
> “You totally made it happen, Sam,” Bucky pointed out, tipping his wine glass toward him. “If it hadn’t been for your producer skills, we wouldn’t have gotten anywhere.” Nat and I smiled. 
> 
> “Here here,” we said in unison, and laughed. We all took sips of our Pinot Noir - everyone else’s big, mine tiny. But now it was time to come clean. After my tiny sip of wine, I put my glass down and said, “You guys, we have some other big news for you.” Bucky put his hand over mine.

“OK, my Hollywood hotshots, the suits are bringing in the paperwork,” said Tony, scratching his belly right about at the Patrick Nagel model’s neck. He was as formally dressed as I’d ever seen him, wearing a designer sport coat over his Duran Duran Rio t-shirt, with dark jeans and black high tops. The rest of us, as befitted the occasion, were dressed in office formal. Sam sported a blue pinstripe suit and Bucky’s was glen plaid with a red stripe in it. I wore a dark green cropped pantsuit, Nat wore a burgundy dress with matching stilettos, and Pepper’s black and white Givenchy sheath was a minor fashion miracle.

We sat together in a conference room at Stark Industries headquarters in midtown as two women in black suits whose entire vibe screamed FINANCE came into the room with a couple of portfolios. For a while the room was silent as we all reviewed the papers and then signed them. Pepper then reviewed the portfolios and gave one to Sam, handing the other to her FINANCE cohorts, who left the room as her assistant entered, carrying an ice bucket with a black bottle peeping out.

Tony went to the cupboard hidden in a corner of the room and pulled out a tray of flutes. He lifted the bottle of vintage Dom Perignon out of the bucket and deftly uncorked it, pouring the wine and handing the flutes around.

“Well, my little lunatics at Luna Productions,” Tony said, raising his glass. “Here’s to a fruitful partnership, starting with The Dragon Princess on the big screen. Cheers!”

“Cheers!” we all echoed, raising our glasses and then sipping the champagne. I took a polite sip and then discreetly handed my glass to Bucky, who drained it when no one was looking. 

*****

Our theater production of The Dragon Princess at Lincoln Center was three years ago. Bucky and I had gone out to LA together the following week, and after discussions with Jim Paxton, we signed contracts for the newest Marvel superhero movie - Bucky to star, and me as associate production designer, working with Hannah Beachler. Jim had also introduced me to Nico Minoru, the best agent for below-the-line movie talent, and I had signed with her three weeks later.

Pre-production for the the Marvel movie had started that September, and I had gone to LA to work with Hannah Beachler for two months. I rented a little bungalow in West Adams while I was out there and Bucky stayed with me for most of the time, getting in shape for filming and grumbling when I ate carbs and fried foods in front of him. When I would get too saucy about stuffing my face with gnocchi and wings while he was eating poached salmon and kale, he would pull me out of my chair mid-meal, carry me to the bedroom, throw me down on the bed, and eat me out until I was begging.

“Guess that superhero diet’s not too bad after all,” he’d taunt from between my legs.

In November filming started and continued for six months, in LA, DC, Cleveland, and Baltimore. We worked all the time but still somehow managed to get time together and keep in touch with New York friends, especially Nat and Sam, who were filming a rom-com in Brooklyn. We saw them every time we went home, and Bucky recommended Nat for a part in another Marvel movie.

That next June, filming on the Marvel movie wrapped and we celebrated with a long weekend away at a house in Charleston, eating in ridiculous restaurants and staying up late into the night. As always, I wondered if we’d have a repeat of our first experience but nothing out of the ordinary happened except that one time when I had trouble walking the next morning.

At the end of that year we had started pre-production on Bucky’s next superhero movie. I was again the associate production designer and Nat had a featured role. When the film wrapped the next spring, Bucky and I joined up with Nat and Sam to create our own company, Luna Productions. We set up an office in LA and bought a bungalow down the street from the one I’d rented 18 months earlier in West Adams. We sold my loft on the Lower East Side and consolidated into Bucky’s Eldridge Street apartment, and rented a bigger industrial workspace for me out in Queens. Sam and Nat also set up an East Coast office of Luna in the West Village near where they lived.

Some months after we’d started the production company, Tony Stark had approached us with the idea of financing a movie version of The Dragon Princess. Even after more than two years, that production had stayed with him and he wanted to bring it to a wider viewership.

He was also still obsessed with the special effects from the stage show. As we were chatting at the end of one of our meetings, Pepper jokingly admitted this to me.

“It’s amazing, he still can’t figure out how you guys did those dragon effects onstage at Lincoln Center,” she said, laughing. I caught Nat’s eye behind Pepper and she raised her eyebrows and smirked at me.

*****

And now we’d signed the paperwork to make the movie, with Luna producing it and providing the talent and creative staff, and Stark himself putting up the bulk of the funding, with marketing and distribution support from a major Hollywood studio.

Bucky, Nat, Sam, and I left the architectural monstrosity of Stark Industries together after that meeting to finalize the deal. It was a lovely afternoon in late June, a warm summer day that was blessedly low-humidity with a light breeze coming from the direction of the East River. We separated, Nat and Sam taking a Lyft to their place in the West Village and us headed to the subway to go home to the Lower East Side, but we’d be seeing each other later at dinner to celebrate the momentous occasion.

As we entered our apartment on Eldridge Street, Bucky turned to me and hugged me tight before kissing me thoroughly.

“You OK?” he said, forehead crinkling, brushing my hair out of my face. “Not too tired?”

“Nah, I’m fine,” I said, kissing him back just as enthusiastically. “Gonna go check emails. I can’t believe we got that deal done! I’m so psyched.” Bucky grinned.

“No kidding,” he said. “Now comes the easy part, planning, casting, and making a big movie.”

“Hey,” I said, hip-checking him as I walked past toward the office, “you and I have helped make two giant, massively successful Marvel movies, we’re total experts now.”

“Uh huh, right,” he said, grabbing me from behind. “Gonna go call my dad.” He headed off to the master bedroom.

“Tell him I’m sending lots of hugs,” I called as I walked into the office. I looked at the pictures of our families propped up on the desk as I opened my laptop.

*****

Over the last three years a lot had happened with the Osgood and Barnes clans. After the theater production of The Dragon Princess had ended and we’d returned from our first trip out to LA to meet with Marvel, we headed off to Martha’s Vineyard for two weeks in August. I’d joked about renting a place there after The Night of Drunken Karaoke, but Bucky had asked me if I’d really wanted it and then gone ahead and done it when I’d said yes, the bastard.

We’d spent twelve blissful days in a beachside cottage in Vineyard Haven, and then three somewhat more stressful days visiting my parents on the North Shore in Ipswich. I say “more stressful,” but actually that was just me worrying about whether my family would like Bucky - and whether he would take a look at the whole bunch of them and run for the hills. I’d been particularly worried about my mom, who was a lot to deal with at the best of times, and when we’d first arrived she was very much The Loving But Formidable Mother Who Will Only Accept The Best For Her Precious Daughter.

But she’d melted that night at dinner after Bucky entertained her with stories about growing up in Brooklyn and meeting various movie stars. I was never absolutely sure whether that was a spell or just my boyfriend’s natural charm, but the sea air did smell particularly fresh that night through the open windows. Toward the end of the evening, I caught my dad’s eye and he gave me the ghost of a wink.

The next morning my mother had dragged me on a completely unnecessary trip to the grocery store to gush about how “delightful” Bucky was, what “a catch” he was, and how I should do my best to “hold on” to him.

“And he’s such a nice, normal, down-to-earth guy, even if he is an actor,” she’d said as we drove home. “That’s so good for you.” “Normal guy, down-to-earth guy” was momspeak for someone who was not like me, and I’d hidden a smile, thinking of how she would flip her shit if she knew just how like me he was and what had already happened between us.

The night before we left to head back to the city, my dad had taken me aside and told me he’d had a “heart to heart” with Bucky in his home office earlier that day. Dad had chuckled when he saw my alarmed face, and had rushed to reassure me (a) that it had been a very pleasant discussion and (b) that my mother’s fears of the danger of two people like us getting together were completely unfounded.

“Although,” he’d warned, “You might experience some strange, unexplained phenomena every now and then. Your great-great grandparents somehow set their bedroom curtains on fire the night after their wedding.”

“Ah,” I had said solemnly. “I’ll look out for that. Thanks, Dad.” I’d hidden another smile and hugged him.

A week later we made an even more difficult visit to Bay Ridge out in Brooklyn to see Bucky’s parents. His mother Winnie had just had surgery for her ovarian cancer and was not up for a lot of activity. When Bucky and his father had gone out to CVS to get a few things, she’d insisted I stay behind and had grabbed my hand.

“Oh Ari,” she’d said, her hand shaking. “You’re so good for him. I’m so glad he’s found you...and you’re like us. So you know.” I’d gently placed my other hand over hers and had said softly, “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“Take care of each other,” she’d said more insistently. “When I’m not around...”

“But you will be,” I’d cut her off. “Recovery rates from this stage of ovarian cancer are very good. My father’s an oncology researcher at Harvard, he’s shown me studies...”

“I know about the studies,” she cut me off in turn. “But I’ve seen my future and I know I don’t have that much time left.”

“Ah,” I’d said soberly. I didn’t have this power, not even in my dreams - as should be pretty obvious by now, my dreams were complete rubbish at foreseeing the future. But I knew she wasn’t over-dramatizing.

“Just...take care of each other,” she’d said again. “And don’t wait too long. I proposed to Bucky’s father after six months.” I’d smiled at the thought, but even after knowing her for such a short time, I knew it was not out of character for Winifred Early Barnes to decide what she wanted, and go after it. Just like her son.

*****

In the home office, I checked emails, texted my brothers, and FaceTimed my parents to let them all know about the huge agreement we’d just made with Tony Stark. (My parents still don’t think much of my career, but they did get to meet Robert Downey, Jr. and Cate Blanchett at the premiere of Bucky’s second superhero movie and they never stop talking about it when we get together, so that’s something.) They were predictably underwhelmed by my big news, but pretended to be excited for me.

At the end of the call, my mother said, “Are you doing OK? You’re not pushing yourself too hard, are you?”

“Mom, I’m fine,” I said, though gently. “Everything’s fine.”

“OK, well, keep me updated and come home soon,” she said. “I’ll send you some articles about...”

“No need, Mom,” I said, smiling at her. “Everything’s good. I’ll call you this weekend.”

I took a shower and slipped into a flowing green flowered sleeveless silk dress and gold sandals. I’d finished my makeup and was putting on my dragon earrings and gold cuff at the vanity in the master bedroom when Bucky came out of the bathroom in just a towel, his long hair hanging damply around his face. I looked at him in the mirror with sparkling eyes.

“Hey, I know One If By Land has a fairly casual dress code but I’m not sure that’s what they meant,” I said, grinning. He chuckled.

“But this is the latest line of formal towelwear from Thom Browne,” he said, turning around and flexing his arms and upper body. My breath caught at all the pulchritude on display.

Bucky heard it, smirked, and came up behind me, dipping his face to my neck and inhaling.

“Damn, you smell great,” he said, kissing up my neck to my ear.

“And you’re getting me all wet,” I faux-complained...then realized my double entendre. He raised his eyebrows and said, “That’s the idea, gorgeous.” I pushed him away, saying, “Go get ready! We’re meeting Sam and Nat in an hour!”

Bucky stood up, but before he went off to the closet to get some clothes, he ran his hands down my bare arms and kissed my neck. Our wedding rings, matching plain gold bands, clinked softly as he interlaced his fingers with mine.

*****

When our first Marvel movie wrapped, as I said earlier, we’d gone to Charleston for our gourmet long weekend. When we returned home to my loft after the trip, Bucky had dropped our bags on the dragon chair, turned around, grabbed my right hand, and knelt at my feet, head down.

“Bucky?” I’d said uncertainly. He’d lifted his head.

“Ari, will you marry me?” he’d said quietly, looking in my eyes. I’d taken a deep inhale. This wasn’t completely out of the blue - we’d talked about it during a number of late-night post-sex cuddle sessions on location for the movie - but I hadn’t been expecting it right then. My heartbeat had sped up and my left thumb and forefinger had come together and started to glow blue. Bucky had noticed and looked at me with wide eyes.

“Hey love, it’s ok if you don’t want married, but please don’t strike me down or destroy the apartment, ok?” he’d said in what was a fairly reasonable voice given his worried expression. I had looked down, started, and broken the circle. Then I’d knelt in front of him and grabbed his hands with mine.

“Sorry, sweetheart, you just surprised me. The topic wasn’t a surprise, just the timing,” I’d said, bringing our hands to my heart. I’d taken a deep breath and remembered Winnie’s words about not waiting too long.

“Yes, of course I’ll marry you,” I’d said, kissing him. “I’m just surprised you didn’t propose in front of the entire movie crew in Baltimore...or the crowds in the City Market in Charleston,” I’d teased. “Where’s the pageantry and the drama in this?”

“Oh, I’ll give you drama,” he’d growled, eyes dark with emotion as he’d stood up, thrown me over his shoulder, and carried me to the bedroom. He’d been right about the drama - this time as we came the light from our chests was dark blue instead of red. At least we hadn’t set the curtains on fire.

Bucky hadn’t yet gotten me an engagement ring, and I’d convinced him to buy me a new power sander for my workshop instead. Practical! A diamond would’ve just gotten stuck in my work gloves all the time anyway.

We didn’t wait to get engaged, and we didn’t wait to get married, especially as Bucky’s mother was getting sicker. We’d gotten married at the Merchant House Museum in the Bowery not far from our apartments three months later in September, surrounded by our family and closest friends. I’d worn a cream jumpsuit that our Dragon Princess costume designer had made for me, and Bucky had been dressed all in black. We’d said our vows in the outdoor secret garden, and later Bucky had sworn that when I’d said, “I do,” the emerald eyes on my dragon earrings had flashed. 

The night before the wedding, Bucky had asked me to meet him at his place. When I’d arrived, his mom, my dad, Bruce, and Nat were already there. I’d hidden my surprise as he’d drawn me into his arms and kissed me.

“I’m really happy to see you guys,” I’d said, “but why are we here?” My dad and Bucky’s mom came forward. “Traditional pre-wedding blessing,” they’d said together, and grinned. We stood facing each other in the middle of their circle of clasped hands, and Bucky’s mom had said the blessing.

As she spoke I’d felt such gratitude at all the love surrounding me that my hands had started to glow red, and then suddenly everyone’s hands were glowing and we were surrounded by a warm light. Bruce and Nat’s eyes were huge - they’d clearly never seen such a thing before - but my dad and Bucky’s mom had just smiled at us through shiny eyes.

After the wedding we’d spent two weeks in Goa and the Maldives, and then when we came home we’d gone to Boston to attend my parents’ fortieth anniversary party. We’d also gone out to Bay Ridge to say goodbye to Bucky’s mother, who was in hospice, and went to her funeral when she passed away in October.

*****

“A toast!” said Sam exuberantly, lifting his wine glass. “Here’s to The Dragon Princess, and to Tony Stark, and to you three lovely people for making it happen.” We’d just gotten the bottle and were waiting for our main courses at One If By Land in the West Village. 

The Dragon Princess film would again star Bucky and Nat, and many of the original stage cast were reprising their roles, including Stephen Strange. I was going to be the principal production designer. I couldn’t wait to work with the old group again.

“You totally made it happen, Sam,” Bucky pointed out, tipping his wine glass toward him. “If it hadn’t been for your producer skills, we wouldn’t have gotten anywhere.” Nat and I smiled.

“Here here,” we said in unison, and laughed. We all took sips of our Pinot Noir - everyone else’s big, mine tiny. But now it was time to come clean. After my tiny sip of wine, I put my glass down and said, “You guys, we have some other big news for you.” Bucky put his hand over mine.

Sam looked confused. Nat arched one perfect eyebrow at me, and then looked pointedly at my stomach. I grimaced at her. She always knew too much.

“We’re...uh...expecting,” I spluttered out. Nat looked smug; Sam’s face registered shock for a split second before it split into a huge grin.

“You guys! Congratulations!!” he said loudly, and insisted on standing up and hugging us all over again. Nat rolled her eyes, but she, too, got up and hugged us.

“So this explains why you look so amazing, Ari,” said Sam as we resettled in our chairs. “You are totally glowing, my dear.”

“Sweet Sam,” I said warmly. “I had morning sickness for a while but that seems to be clearing up now.” I didn’t mention that Bucky’s refreshment spell - and good sex afterward - had been really effective temporary remedies during this period.

“So when are you due?” asked Nat, tilting her head as she looked at my midsection, trying to figure it out for herself.

“I’m twelve weeks along now, due at the end of December,” I answered. “We would’ve told you earlier, but there were a few minor hiccups at the beginning and we wanted to make sure everything was ok.”

“Are you ok?” asked Sam, his face changing from happy to concerned in a flash.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” I said. “We even got the seal of approval from earth’s foremost authority on babies - my mom.” I grinned. Our main courses arrived and we started eating.

“So are you going to find out if it’s a girl or a boy?” continued Sam. I hesitated for a moment and Bucky chimed in.

“It...uh...it could be both,” he said with a rueful smile. “We’re having twins.” Both Sam’s and Nat’s mouths dropped open at this development; fortunately they were between bites.

“Twins!” said Nat. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” I said, sighing. “We’re really in for it now.”

“So wait...” said Sam, obviously doing some calendar calculations in his head. “Are we ok for this movie? We’re supposed to start pre-production in September...I can talk to Stark about changing the schedule...”

“Uh, Sam, you know that pregnant people can still work, right?” I said, shooting him a look. I’ll be fine to work through early December, although the babies may come mid-month...twins do sometimes arrive early...”

“...and we’re not starting shooting ‘til next March in the Czech Republic,” Bucky pointed out. “I know you wondered about my suggestion to delay production a bit...it wasn’t just to avoid the bad winters in Prague.”

“But can Ari bring the babies to Prague? Will that work?” Sam worried. Nat rolled her eyes at him.

“Babies are born all the time in Prague, Sam,” she said impatiently, spearing a piece of filet.

“Sam, it’ll be fine,” I said in a gentler voice. “I can bring them with me, and I’ve got a great assistant production designer, who can do a lot of the heavy lifting on location.”

Nat put her hand on Sam’s arm. “Face it, babe,” she said, smirking. “They’ve got it all worked out, and you have nothing to worry about.”

“We also wondered if you two...” I started hesitantly. Suddenly I got overwhelmed and my eyes were full of tears. Bucky put his hand on my arm.

_Oh fuck, honey,_ he said into my head. _Don’t start, or I will too_. I shot him a glare and continued.

“...if you two would be godparents?” I said, then hiccuped as the tears spilled over. I looked helplessly at Bucky who was wiping away his own tears, then at Nat, whose eyes were big and shiny and at Sam, who was openly crying.

“Of course we will,” sniffled Sam. Nat put her hand on his shoulder. She cleared her throat loudly and then appeared to get control of herself.

“Absolutely,” she said, smiling mischievously. “I can’t wait to see those little nuggets and start teaching them stuff.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw Bucky’s face shift into a mask of concern; doubtless he was imagining the worst given Nat’s personality and abilities.

Sam loudly blew his nose into a big light blue hanky and then said, “Well, I think it’s time for another toast.” He refilled everyone’s glasses except mine - “No hooch for the pregnant lady!” - and raised his glass again.

“To Ari and Bucky, and their latest production,” said Sam with theatrical flair. Nat rolled her eyes but looked at him and us with affection. They and Bucky drank, and I picked up my water glass to say something, but found I couldn’t speak without getting emotional again. I put my left forefinger and thumb together and took a deep breath to pull myself together, then looked at my dear friends.

“Love you guys,” I said, bringing my circle to rest on my belly under the table. Bucky leaned over and kissed me long and tenderly on the cheek.

*****

“That’s right, baby, come for me,” growled Bucky later that night as he loomed over me, fucking into me with smooth strokes and rubbing the side of my clit. The electricity surged under my skin and I cried out as I gripped the back of his neck. A minute later he followed, pulsing deep inside me. He lay on top of me for a few minutes, kissing my lips softly, then rolled off and snuggled close to me on one side.

“When can we feel them move?” he murmured, running his hand over my midsection. I was only twelve weeks along so I wasn’t really showing yet, but my belly was a bit more rounded than usual.

“You heard the doctor the other day,” I answered, stretching against his hand and covering it with my own. “Probably not ‘til after 16 or 18 weeks, so we’ve got a month or more to go.”

He grabbed my hand and kissed it. “I kind of can’t believe we’re doing this,” he said hesitantly. I laughed.

“Me neither, but here we are,” I said. “We’ve got the movie schedule all set with Sam and Stark, and we’ll tell Pepper soon about the babies. I’m doing fine now.” I wiggled a little and Bucky clutched my hand to his chest.

“And you know if you’re really worried, we can always call my mother, she’s a fountain of wisdom and experience. And happy to share it,” I finished drily. Bucky snorted.

“God forbid,” he said. “We’ll figure it out. Magical babies, how hard can they be?” We both started laughing and he sat up and kissed my stomach.

“Hey babies,” he said to my belly. “You’re gonna be nice to mommy and daddy, right? And not pull any weird shit in front of any unsuspecting doctors and nurses when you arrive?” He lay back down next to me, snuggling against my neck with his hand on my stomach.

Suddenly I felt a strange sensation in my midsection, as if it had fallen asleep like your foot does and was now tingling as it woke up. My stomach muscles tensed involuntarily. “Oof,” I said, and Bucky moved his hand and said, “What was that? Are you OK?”

The sensation dissipated, and the area under my belly button faintly glowed purple for a minute before going back to normal. Both Bucky and I looked at it, and then at each other, with huge eyes and open mouths.

“Holy fuck,” we said in unison.

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re not an 80s baby and can’t immediately conjure the Duran Duran Rio t-shirt, it’s the one Bruce was wearing in Thor:Ragnarok when he morphed back from Hulk on Sakaar.
> 
> One If By Land, Two If By Sea is an incredibly good and romantic restaurant in the West Village. My husband once took me there during a big birthday weekend in New York, and it was one of the best meals I’ve ever had.


	11. Epilogue 2: The Dragon Princess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, y’all - this is the original fairytale of The Dragon Princess. ;-)

Once upon a time (as all good fairy tales begin), there was a small kingdom, tucked away in a land of mountains and forests and lakes, ruled by a king and queen. The king and queen ruled justly, and their land was rich and prosperous. Their people loved them and were faithful. They established and maintained peaceful relationships with their neighbors. They adored each other. By rights they should have been the happiest monarchs in the world.

But they were not happy, for they had no child.

Years had gone by since their marriage, and despite all their efforts, they were still childless. They had called doctors, midwives, wise women, and councilors to help them, and these had prescribed various potions, herbs, prayers, and magic spells, all to no effect. The king and queen had begun to despair of ever producing a son or daughter, and the king had started muttering to himself about having to designate his cousin Herbert four kingdoms over as a possible backup heir.

Then one day (as many fairy tales continue), the queen was picnicking in the forest with her ladies-in-waiting and various gentlemen on a beautiful August afternoon. She had quietly resigned herself to having no children and put on a brave face, but felt a dull ache in her heart every hour of the day, feeling that something was missing. At the picnic her courtiers laughed and played games while she sat and watched them, the small smile on her lips hiding her sadness.

And then out of the corner of her eye something sparkled. As she turned her head, she saw a tiny red-brown lizard with sparkling green eyes. The sunlight gleamed off its skin and her eyes were dazzled. The lizard darted off into the trees and, almost without knowing why, she got up and followed it. She left so quietly and stealthily that the courtiers did not notice she was gone.

About a quarter-mile into the woods, the splendid lizard stopped at the base of a very strange, very short tree that was covered in very bright-colored berries. It then climbed up the trunk quick as a wink to one of the topmost branches, then turned and looked directly at the queen, hissed, and flicked its tongue.

Somehow the queen knew it meant her to eat one of the berries. She was not accustomed to following strange reptiles and eating unknown fruits, but she took a deep breath, plucked a berry off the closest branch, and popped it into her mouth. The taste was extraordinary - sweet and sour, warm and cool, bitter and mild, all at the same time. The queen couldn’t help smiling - a real smile of delight - as she ate it. As she swallowed it down, she felt a warmth in her stomach. The lizard’s eyes gleamed, it hissed again, and disappeared into the foliage.

A minute later she heard the calls of her courtiers as they looked for her, and she hastened back toward the clearing where the party was gathered. Her ladies asked her worriedly where she’d been, but she just smiled enigmatically and said she’d gone for a short stroll among the trees to get some exercise. Soon they returned to the castle but the queen told no one, not even her husband, about the strange encounter with the lizard, preferring to ponder it within her own heart.

Nine months later the relevance of this encounter became abundantly clear. The next May, criers went about the kingdom proclaiming that the queen had been delivered of a baby girl, perfect and precious. The king and queen were beside themselves with joy and could scarcely think of anything but their little princess.

In due time, the baby was to be christened. It was a grand affair, with important guests from all over the kingdom and the neighboring realms. Nobles and other monarchs brought lavish gifts of gold and jewels, and good fairies and sorcerers chanted spells and charms over the princess to guarantee beauty, kindness, cleverness, piety, grace, and humor. The king and queen graciously hosted the event, and the baby never cried once.

The next day, the queen went into the royal nursery to visit the princess and saw at once that an additional gift had been left overnight. Around the baby’s neck hung a delicate but sturdy gold chain, and at the end of this chain was a solid gold pendant in the shape of a lizard, with gleaming emerald eyes. The queen was surprised but knew in her heart immediately who had left the gift.

When the king came in later and exclaimed about how strange the gift was and how unfitting it was for a baby to wear such jewelry, his wife looked him sternly in the eye and declared that the princess would wear it henceforth. And that was that.

*****

A year later, the king and queen were putting their daughter to bed. She was 18 months old and had become quite the handful, running and darting everywhere and speaking in two languages, English and a strange tongue that no one could identify, packed with sybillants. She constantly wore the lizard pendant, and refused to take it off, even to take baths. When it was removed she screamed until it was replaced.

The king and queen were quite worn out by the princess’s energetic and enigmatic behavior and hoped she would fall asleep quickly. As they crept out of her room, they heard a great noise from outside, as if the wings of a thousand swans were beating against the air. Shouts and screams issued forth from the surrounding area, and nearby church bells began to ring, sounding the alarm. They rushed to the main door of the castle as the guards mobilized for the approaching invasion. And then they saw it.

It was a great dragon, ruby-eyed, covered in golden-green scales and roaring. And it was flying straight toward the castle as if to attack. The king’s heart quailed but he kept his head, ordering his wife to retreat, yelling to the guards, and drawing his sword. The dragon flew ever closer, and breathed fire into the sky (as dragons are wont to do) as it came nearer. The king stood with legs akimbo and prepared to lead the guards in a desperate attempt to defend his home.

And suddenly from between his legs, the princess appeared and darted out into the courtyard toward the approaching dragon. The king reached out to grab her, but he wasn’t quick enough. She ran ahead thirty feet, stopped, planted her feet, and with a piercing voice, yelled a few unintelligible words up into the sky.

The dragon started, stopped short, and then gently flew down to land in front of the toddler. It approached her cautiously, but when it saw the pendant around the princess’s neck, it made a chirping sound and bowed low. The little girl took four more steps forward and put her hand on the dragon’s heaving snout, then uttered a sentence in the mysterious language. The dragon smiled and (there is no other word for it) did a little dance that shook the paving stones.

The princess turned back to her parents, still standing frozen in the courtyard in shock, and said to them, “This is my friend!” Then she copied the dragon’s dance. Picture it if you will: a powerful thirty-foot-long dragon, steam still issuing from its nostrils, and an 18-month-old child dancing around in the open air next to a castle while a king, a queen, and quite 400 guards stand watching them, openmouthed.

*****

That was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Instead of attacking the kingdom, the dragon became its friend and ally. It regularly visited the castle over the years and would spend hours with the princess, walking around the courtyard and grounds and conversing in some strange language. When the king and queen asked their daughter what they discussed, she merely answered that they talked about trees and animals and mountains, and what the dragon saw in faraway lands as it looked for “something.” What this “something” was, she would never say. Occasionally it would fly the princess around the land and folks got used to seeing them soaring above houses and fields, the princess shrieking with laughter and joy.

The dragon often brought lavish gifts of gold and jewels for the king and queen from its hoard, but never brought any presents for the princess. Indeed, she steadfastly refused to wear any jewelry at all save the gold lizard pendant. And as she grew into a young woman, she needed no finery, for she was as beautiful as the day, with tumbling red-brown hair and emerald green eyes. Her mother privately wondered about her appearance, especially since both her parents were dark-haired and dark-eyed, but kept her thoughts to herself.

But the princess’s beauty was surpassed by her kindness and generosity to others. Even those who took issue with her strange friendship with a dragon (a dragon!) could not fault her open heart and love for her people. She was clever and quick to learn, and moved gracefully with an almost animal litheness. She listened to people when they told her their woes and showed people where the best healing herbs could be found in the forest. People made assumptions when they saw her intelligence and plant lore and her relationship with the dragon, and it was widely whispered in the kingdom and abroad that the princess had magical powers and was somehow part witch.

And indeed she did possess magic of a sort, as she charmed everyone she met, noble and peasant, citizen and foreigner. When she reached her twentieth birthday, her parents began to talk about arranging her marriage to the prince of a nearby land, but she begged them to wait a year to enjoy the end of her girlhood. And, as she reasonably told them, it would take at least a year for a prince, no matter how amiable and cultured and well-traveled, to get used to the dragon.

A month or two after this conversation, the dragon came for a visit. It was high summer and it and the princess were seen strolling into the woods together. That was the last anyone in the kingdom saw of them; neither returned to the palace that evening. When the princess failed to appear at home later that night or the next day, the king and queen began to worry. What had happened? Where had they gone? Had the princess, unsettled by talk of marrying and settling down, persuaded the dragon to carry her off to lands unknown?

The king hesitantly voiced this thought to his wife on the night of the second day after her disappearance, but the queen squashed it immediately. Their daughter would never run off and leave them without a word, she reasoned. But she too was uneasy, and as search parties reported back to the castle that no sign had been seen of princess of dragon anywhere in the land, the queen began to wonder if her husband was right or, indeed, if something worse had befallen them.

*****

What had really happened was this. The princess and the dragon, walking in the woods and talking animatedly in their strange shared tongue, had not noticed when an unknown old man, bent and crooked with a long beard and a wooden staff clutched is his claw-like fingers, stepped into the path in front of them.

“Have you anything to eat for a poor beggar man?” he whined.

The princess immediately took a pastry wrapped in cloth out of her apron pocket and gave it to the old man, saying, “Here, Father, take this, and I can show you where some berry brambles grow wild nearby.” As she handed it him, he gripped her arm and rose to a tall height, stern and forbidding.

“Give me your magic!” he shouted, eyes flashing.

The princess, startled, cried, “But Good Father, I have no magic!”

“Of course you do, stupid girl!” he retorted. “How else could you tame this beast and compel it to do your will?”

The princess was about to reply that she could not compel the dragon to do anything, when that creature, angry at seeing its dear friend thus treated, roared loudly and began to open its mouth to threaten the old man. The old man dropped the princess’s arm, pointed its staff at both young woman and creature, and called out a few evil-sounding words. A blinding flash erupted, causing both princess and dragon to jump backward, and the old man disappeared.

When the princess opened her eyes, she knew something had changed. A moment ago she had felt young and strong; now she felt old and feeble. She looked at her hands - there were gnarled fingers instead of fresh, graceful ones. She put these hands up to her face, and felt a web of wrinkles.

_I’ve been enchanted!_ she thought miserably, and looked around for her friend. She saw no dragon, but on the ground near her feet stood a green-gold lizard with sparkling red eyes. As she bent to look closer, it scampered up her arm and into her apron pocket. This, then, was her friend the dragon, who had also been enchanted. Oh woe!

The princess was tempted to give in to despair, but she took a deep breath and rallied her courage. She felt her neck hesitantly, and her gold pendant was still there. The lizard gave an encouraging hiss, and she felt a bit better. She knew that she could not return to the castle in such a state - her parents would not recognize her, and if they did they would try to move heaven and earth to set her right, and she did not want to trouble them. So she set off through the woods, treading carefully on the paths and every now and then stopping to pick wild plants and herbs and store them in her apron.

*****

The enchanted princess and the lizard traveled through the woods for several days, stopping regularly to eat and rest. They stayed cottages with simple folk of the kingdom, who were happy to give shelter to such a gentle and kind old woman who brought them woodland fruits and made them tinctures for their ills. Word of the princess’s disappearance had spread throughout the kingdom by this time, but everyone was on the lookout for a beautiful young woman, not an old crone.

After three days of travel, the princess and her friend reached the border of the kingdom. It was early in the morning and the sun was just rising. She had no idea where to find the evil sorcerer to break the enchantment, but her intuition told her he was no longer in her land. As she left her homeland, she was saddened but tried to remain hopeful of success in her mission. She hobbled down the road into the neighboring kingdom, and as she walked, she tripped over a log on the side of the road and almost fell.

But the log shrieked and stood up. A log making sounds? Most strange! Indeed, it was not a log but a young man with a dull-looking face and lank black hair. The princess apologized most courteously, and the young man looked at her. For a split second his face looked handsome and his blue eyes looked lively and intelligent, and then they settled back into a vacant stare. The lizard darted out of the princess’s apron, and peered intently at the boy from her arm. It hissed happily. Here is someone else under a heavy spell, the princess thought, and she spoke to him in a gentle voice.

“Dear boy, would you like to travel with us? We are homeless wanderers in search of important things we’ve lost.”

The dull-witted boy shrugged and hesitated, but then nodded violently and did a little jig in a circle. The princess laughed and joined him. Then she said, “Shall we go and find some breakfast? We’ve some berries from the woods but a loaf of bread would not go amiss.” The boy nodded again, and they set off down the road toward the nearest village.

In the village they found a baker who sold them a loaf of bread for a few pennies. He was kind and friendly, but shook his head when the princess-crone asked him if he’d seen a tall old man with a beard in these parts recently. As they sat in the shade and ate their breakfast, the princess sang a quiet song about traveling to faraway lands and the lizard hissed along. The boy nodded his head and then stared very intently at a thistle. After a short rest, they got up and moved along down the road.

Thus did they travel for weeks, gathering food and herbs in the woods and stopping in villages along the way to barter for food and temporary shelter. The princess offered herbal tinctures and tonics to the villagers, and the dull-witted boy was very good at cleaning and surprisingly adept at carving little wooden figures for the local children. Before they left, the princess would ask if anyone had seen the evil sorcerer. No one had.

And then one day in early August, they came to a village that seemed sadder and less prosperous than other villages. The people were more suspicious and less welcoming, and grudgingly gave the travelers bread out of their meager stores. The princess warmly thanked the village baker for the bread, and then asked him if he’d seen the sorcerer. The baker turned white and drew in a sharp breath.

“No!” he said quickly. “There’s been no one like that here. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m late for an important meeting with the butcher. Please be on your way.”

The princess was taken aback, but managed to remain calm and polite, thanked the baker again, and left the shop with her companions. The lizard hissed in her pocket and the dull-witted boy groaned and did an agitated sort of skip.

“Yes, I think you’re right,” the princess said quietly. “He has been here. But none of these folk want to talk about it, and they’re afraid of us. Let us move along.”

So they walked through the village, the princess still smiling pleasantly at all the people who’d gathered to stare at them as they passed. An unfriendly murmur swelled behind them as they headed toward the woods on the other end of the town, and the princess sensed violence, the violence that comes out of fear. The dull-witted boy shuffled calmly down the road but his eyes were round as saucers. But they managed to make it to the forest, and no one followed them. The princess began to relax.

A mile down the road out of the village, she was startled out of her wits by a loud “PSSSST” and the sudden appearance of an old woman, as bent and wrinkled as herself, out of the trees. The travelers jumped back in surprise. The lizard chattered and hid in the princess’s apron. The old woman looked around to make sure no one else was about, then beckoned them to a clearing off the byway. The travelers cautiously followed her.

“My apologies for startling you,” said the old woman. “I had to wait til you were out of the village before approaching, as people wouldn’t like it if they saw me talking to you. The truth is, we’ve suffered a great loss and now all outsiders appear as threats.”

The woman went on to say that the village had been a prosperous one, with a good and benevolent mayor and his wife, who was a learned wise woman. The mayor’s wife had been instrumental in helping the villagers increase their crops and livestock, and in helping women bring their babies into the world. A few weeks prior, an old man with a staff had been seen talking to the couple and walking with them toward the woods.

A few hours later, when they did not return, several residents (including the old woman) had gone in search of them. They found the mayor dead near an old tree, and no sign of his wife. Since then the village had no leadership and some of their crops and livestock had suddenly died. People believed they were under a curse.

“...and that’s why the townsfolk were so suspicious of you back there. They are worried that the old man or his cronies will come back and strengthen the curse. And you carry a strong air of enchantment about you.” The old woman looked critically at the princess-crone and the dull-witted boy. “You are enchanted, aren’t you?”

The princess paused and then slowly nodded her head. The dull-witted boy looked at her, flailed his arms, and emitted a short chirp.

“We seek that same old man with the staff,” said the princess in a low tone, “to see if it can be undone.” The lizard peeked its gold-green head out of the princess’s apron and blinked ruby eyes at the old lady.

“Ahhh,” this lady said on seeing the lizard. “So I see.” She looked around again and reached into her own apron pocket, pulling out a large and strange object. It was a golden key with a long pin and a bow in the shape of a circle quartered by a cross. It glittered in the sunlight.

“I found this near our poor mayor that day,” the old woman said in a voice barely above a whisper. “I’d never seen it before, but I kept it and wondered what to do with it. And now I know,” she said, handing the key to the princess. “You should take it and go seek the old man - who knows? It could be useful.”

The princess was about to demure, but the lizard climbed out on her arm and hissed urgently. So she took the key and gave gracious thanks to the old lady. The dull-witted boy turned in a circle, gave a funny little bow, and passed a wooden carving of a horse to her. She was tickled and gave her thanks in return. Then a twig cracking in the woods made her look up sharply, and she said a quick goodbye and disappeared among the trees.

“Well,” said the princess after a minute of silence. “That was...interesting.” She looked at the key and then at the dull-witted boy. He bent his legs a few times and said, “Mmmm. Mmmm?” She held up the key between them by the pin and he grabbed the bow. It hummed and seemed to shine more brightly. They looked at each other in surprise, and for a second were revealed as their true selves: the princess with her red-gold hair, quicksilver cleverness, and kind beauty; and the dull-witted boy with noble intelligence, breathtaking handsomeness, flowing black hair, and flashing clear blue eyes. Then in the next moment they were again the crone and the half-wit.

The princess’s heart beat strong in her chest and she looked again at the boy. His eyes flitted across her lined face as he blew out his cheeks and made a raspberry sound. She laughed in relief and patted his shoulder as she pocketed the key. The lizard hissed happily and followed the key into her pocket.

“I think we should keep this,” she said, still chuckling. “Let’s be on our way, my friend.” And they turned once more down the road.

*****

They continued to travel down the road, for the most part encountering kind, hospitable villagers. But two weeks later, they entered a small town that had the same air as the village where they had received the key - greyer, sadder, as if something vital had been removed. The baker gave them some oat cakes but when the princess asked about the sorcerer, he started as if he’d gotten an electric shock and hurried them out of his shop.

They left the town soon after that and as they did so, a few dozen townspeople came out to stare at them suspiciously. As they neared the edge of the town, the princess felt a shiver pass over her and instinctively grabbed her lizard pendant with her right hand and raised her left as if in greeting. A second later, three stones stopped in midair just behind them, hovered for an instant, and then fell with a thud to the ground.

The crowd gasped audibly and dispersed. The princess’s lizard hissed angrily from her apron pocket. She wished (not for the first time) that she wasn’t an old woman and could walk faster to leave the angry crowd behind them. But they moved to exit the town as fast as they could. The princess was shaking with fear and the dull-witted boy chattered agitatedly as he walked beside her.

About two miles outside the town, they heard the crack of a branch in the woods and an old man appeared through the trees. The princess screamed and the boy stepped in front of her as a shield, loudly making nonsense sounds. But it was not the sorcerer - this old man was shorter and bent, with sparse white hair on his head and twinkling dark eyes.

“I’m so sorry for scaring you,” he said gently. “But am I right in thinking you are looking for a sorcerer? Tall, commanding, with a staff?” The princess nodded, frowning. The old man told her they had seen someone of this description in their town two weeks earlier, looking for their town doctor. This doctor was renowned throughout the region for his remedies, his wisdom, and his ability to heal the sick.

The sorcerer had entered the doctor’s house, and shortly after a giant flash had been seen by passers-by. When the townspeople dared to check on the doctor an hour later, the house was empty, both of people and of the doctor’s books. The old man had been among the people searching the premises, and while there was no sign of the doctor...

“I found this,” the old man said solemnly, looking around before pulling out a largish gold signet ring and putting it in the princess’s hand. The bezel was set with runes and three small rubies in a triangle pattern adorned the face. It was a beautiful thing.

“I can’t take this,” the princess protested. “This is a valuable treasure, and I have no money to pay for it. I can’t give you anything back.”

“The only thing I ask you in return,” said the old man “is that you seek this sorcerer and see if you can bring our doctor back. There is no one in our town with his skill, and many people have fallen ill since his disappearance. And who knows?” he added, his eyes twinkling once more. “This ring may help you in your quest to recover your own magic.”

“But I’m no magician—“ the princess started to say, and the old cut her off, saying, “I saw what you did back there with those stones. No ordinary person could do that.” The princess looked down at her pendant, and at the key and the lizard in her pocket, and shrugged. The dull-witted boy mimicked her movements, then put a cunningly carved little wooden sculpture of a cat in the old man’s hand. The old man smiled.

“How did you know I have a cat at home?” he said turning over the carving in delight. The dull-witted boy repeated the shrug, then waved his arms around for a few seconds and threw his head back, emitting what might have been a “meow” from his mouth. The old man said his goodbyes, and then disappeared into the woods.

The princess stood looking after him for a minute, then turned her attention to the ring in her hand. Slowly she pulled the key out of her pocket and held them close together. The rubies in the ring glowed with an inner light, and suddenly the princess and the dull-witted boy were bathed in a reddish glow.

As if a curtain had been torn away, they were again revealed as their true selves, this time for ten or fifteen seconds. As the princess looked into the boy’s face, he was no longer a boy, but a beautiful young man whose piercing grey-blue eyes flashed as he beheld her...whose eyes seemed to say “I love you.” But before either could speak, the light vanished and they reverted back to their enchanted forms. The princess clutched her chest in an attempt to calm herself. The boy timidly reached out and laid his hand on her shoulder, his eyes wide and serious. Then he put his hands up, tilted his head back, and yodeled to the sky.

The princess laughed for a full minute and squeezed the boy’s hand.

“Well,” she said, gasping for breath. “That was enlightening.” The lizard emitted a chirp and skittered around in her pocket. She put the ring on her thumb and said, “Shall we go on?” The boy reached out and grabbed her hand and they continued down the road.

*****

A week later as they journeyed, the terrain turned less friendly and the road grew rougher. There were no towns about and the surrounding woods, while thickly set, did not yield the same fruits and herbs as elsewhere. The boy grew gaunter and the shadows under his eyes darkened. The princess-crone tried to give him most of the remaining food, but he would not let her, insisting on sharing in his own inimitable way. She began to worry that if they did not find the sorcerer and undo their enchantments soon, they would starve out here in the wilderness.

One day as they trudged slowly through the landscape, the princess had a presentment of danger approaching. She hardly knew why - the forest was ominous and unyielding, but there was no sign of any other life form in the immediate vicinity. But she felt justified in her fears a few minutes later when the lizard hissed in her apron pocket and the boy grimaced and moaned under his breath.

Suddenly from out of the woods flew a huge raven, squawking loudly and heading straight for them as if to attack. The princess stepped out in front of the boy and barely had time to lift up her arms to fend off the raven’s talons. But she had forgotten that she wore the magic ring on her thumb and just as the giant bird was about to tear into her, the ring glowed brightly and emitted a pulse of light.

The bird squawked again, this time in fear, and pulled up short. And before the princess and the boy could do anything, it was flying back into the woods. The duo looked at each other in amazement and worry, and then the lizard peered out of the princess’s pocket and hissed. On the ground nearby lay a large black feather.

The princess picked it up and looked at it, then looked at the boy.

“I think we should keep it,” she said. “A talisman.” He grinned, blew some air out of his cheeks, and lifted his elbows a few times. As they prepared to continue on, the lizard crawled out of her pocket and hissed as loudly as it had ever done. The princess pulled it into her hand and said, “What now, old friend?” It hissed again...

...and was answered by a similar hiss nearby. Something glinted on one of the trees and then another lizard was bolting down the trunk and toward them. This one had red-brown scales and emerald eyes; the princess’s mother would have recognized it immediately. The two lizards met on the ground and circled round and round each other, hissing in delight.

“Is this who you were looking for?” the princess asked, kneeling down. Her green lizard friend hissed in assent. “Oh joy!” She turned to the boy. “My friend has been looking for this...other lizard for a long time, and now they are reunited. But both are enchanted.” And she sighed.

The boy patted her on the back and then knelt down to say hello to the lizards. They ran up his arm and settled on his shoulder. The princess thought her chest would burst to see such a heartwarming sight. But the she was reminded that they needed to move on. She gestured to the boy that they should keep walking, but the red-brown lizard hissed and scampered down the boy’s leg to the ground and a short way into the woods, indicating that they should follow it. So they did.

Just a little way into the woods stood a very short, very strange tree that looked similar to the one the princess’s mother had eaten from twenty years earlier, only with different-colored berries. The princess hesitated to eat them, but the lizard climbed up the trunk and hissed insistently. She picked a berry off the branch and ate it, and immediately felt a bit braver and less hungry.

The lizard hissed some more, and she and the boy ate a number of berries off the tree. When they were finished they felt like they’d just eaten a five-course meal and like they could conquer any task or face any danger. They smiled at each other, and then the princess looked at the red-brown lizard and said, “Many thanks, friend.” It looked at her, hissed, and quick as a wink grabbed two remaining berries off the tree and skittered down to the ground to share one with its mate. Then they all returned to the road and continued on through the brooding forest.

*****

The next day they came to an even bleaker part of the forest where nothing grew and the skeletal branches of the dead trees hung over them like a warning. A dank mist rose from the ground around them, casting a further pall on the travelers and distorting the landscape. It was impossible to judge distances in that setting, so they were all surprised when a huge and black locked gate loomed up in front of them. The dull-witted boy yelped and the two lizards hissed uneasily in the princess’s apron pocket.

_This is the place,_ thought the princess. _This is where the sorcerer lives._

The princess, acting on instinct, took the golden key out of her pocket and fitted it into the lock on the gate. The gate buzzed and shook, but would not open. She thought for a moment, then threaded the raven feather through the quartered cross at the top of the key. The gate sprang open but some sort of alarm sounded off on the other side and suddenly an entire conspiracy of ravens could be heard coming toward them.

“What do we do?” the princess turned to the boy with a panicked face. She remembered the talons on the one giant raven from the day before and quailed at the thought of 20 or 30 of them coming to rip the travelers to shreds.

The boy’s eyes were as huge as saucers and he whined for a few seconds before grabbing the key from her and beckoning her to follow behind him. As she did so the unkindness of ravens appeared through the trees, flying straight toward the pair. The boy lifted the key with the feather in it toward the giant birds, and steadfastly walked forward. The ravens shrieked in rage and frustration, but they could not approach the travelers and hovered around them at a distance of eight or nine feet.

The noise from the birds was deafening and the princess and the boy could hardly hear themselves think, but they kept moving forward down the path. After twenty minutes, a tall door loomed up in front of them and they could barely make out the outlines of a gloomy, decrepit castle around it. The princess wondered how they would be able to unlock the door using the key if they needed the key to continue warding off the raven horde.

But she needn’t have worried. While the boy held the key backward to stave off the birds, she touched the door with her hand and it swung inward silently. She pulled the boy in through the door and shut it, and immediately the noise outside ceased.

Inside the castle it was deadly quiet, and the air of enchantment and menace was twenty times stronger inside than out. The daylight penetrated feebly through the filthy windows, but darkness pervaded much of the entryway and no light could be seen through the open doorways to either side of them or up the stairway that extended off in front of them.

The princess and the boy looked at each other, their ears still ringing from the raven attack and their heads spinning with fright, and they clung together for a minute. They realized that they had come to the end of their quest, that they had to confront the sorcerer somewhere in this castle, and that their courage had deserted them.

Then from the princess’s pocket, the lizards hissed and crawled up her bodice between them. The princess and the boy felt a warmth penetrate their chests and flood their bodies, and they started to feel a bit braver and a bit stronger. After a few minutes, they looked at each other and smiled.

“Are you alright?” the princess whispered to the boy. He hesitated, then nodded, holding up the key with the feather that he still clutched tightly in his hand. She smiled faintly at him.

“OK, now we’ve got to find this sorcerer,” she said with a confidence she didn’t quite feel. The boy nodded again, but with apprehension in his eyes. The princess looked around the entryway, trying to determine which way they should go in search of their enemy. But there was no noise, no signal, and her instinct was quiet.

Then the red-brown lizard hissed and climbed quickly down the princess’s dress to the floor, heading off to the right-hand hallway off the foyer. The green-gold lizard did the same, and the princess and the boy followed them hesitantly at a distance.

At the end of the hall was a huge, empty ballroom with cathedral-size high ceilings. As in the rest of the castle, very little light came through the windows, even though these were several stories tall. The lizards surged into the room and disappeared into the gloom. The princess and the boy peered into the room and, seeing no one, cautiously entered it to have a look around. It appeared empty but for a number of statues that dotted the edges of the floor. They were halfway into the large room when they heard a noise near the doorway.

“And who have we here?” asked the sorcerer in a soft but by no means friendly voice. He walked slowly toward them and at his snap, some dim lights came on around the sides of the room. He no longer appeared as an old man, but was tall, forbidding, robed in a long coat of innumerable colors that flashed faintly as they picked up the lights.

The princess plucked up her courage and, rising up to her full height (which was still not very tall as she was an old crone), she yelled at the top of her lungs, “Release us from these enchantments at once!” Unfortunately, it came out as a croak instead of a yell.

The sorcerer smiled an evil smile. “Oh, it’s you, Your Highness,” he said. The dull-witted boy chirped angrily and the sorcerer looked at him. “And you’ve found this sorry excuse for an enchanter. How charming.” His expression darkened.

“And how convenient for me to kill you both,” he said in the same smooth voice. “I spared you both when I took your magic, but I can’t have this intrusion into my home. And I will keep your magic and all the other magic I can get my hands on.” He reached into his sleeve and pulled out a wand, pointing it at the pair.

Both the princess and the boy reacted at the same time, lifting up their arms to shield themselves from whatever was coming. The sorcerer’s wand emitted a blackish purple light at them, which felt cold as death.

As the pair’s hands came together, the cross threaded with the feather and the ring joined to create a red light, even stronger than the light the ring had made by itself so many days earlier. This light grew and grew until it surrounded them, protecting them from the sorcerer’s death spell.

“No!” the sorcerer cried and muttered some words toward them. Instantly the death spell strengthened and began to penetrate the red light around the princess and the boy. The princess brought up her other hand in an effort to ward it off, as she had done with the stones thrown at them back in the second unfriendly village, but it was no use. The death spell had reached them and she could feel icy fingers around her heart.

The princess looked at the boy and saw his color ebb and realized the same was happening to him. As the spell worsened she could feel herself return to her youth and she saw the boy’s face mature into the beautiful man with piercing blue eyes, and yet it was no good. They were disenchanted, but they were dying. They started to sink to the ground and the princess clutched at her heart and grabbed the lizard pendant...

...and from behind them came a sound of hissing. The hissing grew louder and louder until it filled the entire room and then came a loud CRACK and the hissing turned into roaring. The sorcerer shouted aloud and turned his wand away from the couple. They fell on their knees, holding each other, breathing hard, and watched in wonder as the green-gold lizard, now returned to its natural form as a dragon, rose in the air and came flying in at the sorcerer. It released a jet of flame from its mouth that incinerated the sorcerer’s wand. The sorcerer screamed in frustration and lifted his arms to curse the dragon...

...and with a roar the red-brown lizard, now also a dragon, flew in behind the sorcerer and breathed heavy fire at him. Its green-gold mate joined in, and soon the evil magician was wreathed in flame. He tried yelling curses and invoking spells but it was no use, and with a final burst from the dragons’ mouths his screams died away and all that was left was a pile of ash.

For the princess for a minute it seemed that time was suspended and all the sound had gone out of the world. She saw the dragons land near them and stand, side by side, their flanks heaving with effort. She saw the dark-haired enchanter lift her up to standing and then kneel at her feet, kissing her hands and looking up at her with adoration. She felt tears falling from the corners of her eyes. And out of the corner of her eye she saw one of the statues turn from marble to flesh and look around in confusion. But she heard none of it.

None of it, until the enchanter stood up, touched her face with his hand, and kissed her lips. As he kissed her, she heard a humming sound and felt a warmth and realized that a red light was emitting from her chest. It was not from the golden key or the ruby ring or even the lizard pendant; it was from within her. A red light issued from the enchanter’s chest in response, increasing in intensity until they were completely surrounded by the magical glow. And they looked at each other, and fully knew each other, and pledged themselves to each other in that moment.

As the light died away, the enchanter kissed the princess again, and she heard the dragons hissing nearby in approval. She looked at them and laughed through her tears, and spoke to the green-gold one in its sibilant tongue, and it answered. And the two humans hugged the two dragons as the people who had been statues climbed down off their stands and shyly approached them in confusion and wonder.

*****

The people who had been statues were of course those whom the sorcerer had kidnapped when he’d stolen their magic, among them the mayor’s wife and the town doctor. To these the princess and the enchanter returned their respective treasures, the key and ruby ring, with many thanks.

“Thank you for saving us,” the mayor’s wife said in response. “Your magic is so strong.”

“But I have no magic!” the princess protested (again), and all who stood by laughed to hear it, including her beloved.

“You say this, dearheart, but we do not believe it,” he said, looking at her with sparkling eyes. “For it was you who got us here, you who gathered the magic items, you who gave us courage, you who released the dragons from their spells.” The two giant lizards hissed and nodded vigorously.

And later, as they said farewell to the others and prepared to return home with the dragons, the enchanter said softly in her ear, “And it was you who captured my heart, from the beginning. Even though we have been unenchanted, I remain enchanted by you and bound to you.” He knelt again at her feet.

“Will you have me?” he said, bowing his head. She smiled and her chest felt warm, even though this time no light emitted from it.

“Yes,” she said, and they kissed again.

Great was the wonder and joy in the princess’s kingdom when she returned home with her enchanter on the backs of not one but two dragons. The queen and king had searched for their daughter for months without success and had all but given up hope when she flew out of the sky to greet them. They fell instantly in love with the enchanter and gave the princess their blessing to marry him. The queen caught the eye of the red-brown dragon, and it bowed to her and winked one emerald eye. Startled, she nodded her head back and smiled over their shared secret.

So the princess and her enchanter were married at twilight the next evening in her parents’ castle. As they joined hands to cement their bond, a blue light glowed between them. When the ceremony ended, church bells rang out across the land and fireworks lit the sky in celebration. The dragons flew to and fro over the palace roaring their own words of joy.

The couple ruled the kingdom wisely after her parents died and used their magic for good among the people. They made peace with all the nearby lands and brought prosperity to their subjects. Their kinship with the dragons was lifelong, and it was not uncommon to see the great lizards flying over the horizon to meet their friends. One can truly say that (as all good fairy tales end) they lived happily ever after.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> The titles in this work come from the song “Floating into the Night” by Julee Cruise.
> 
> The “well-known” fairy tale The Dragon Princess is in fact made up by me, and will be posted as the Epilogue at the end of the story. 
> 
> This entire thing was inspired by a dream I had in late 2018, so huge thanks to my subconscious.


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